THE CROOKED TREE
INDIAN LEGENDS OF
NORTHERN MICHIGAN
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
AT LOS ANGELES
THE CROOKED TREE
THE
CROOKED TREE
INDIAN LEGENDS AND A SHORT
HISTORY OF THE LITTLE
TRAVERSE BAY REGION
BY
JOHN C. WRIGHT
PUBLISHED BY
C. FAYETTE ERWIN
HARBOR SPRINGS MICHIGAN
Copyright, 1917
BY JOHN C. WRIGHT
All rights reserved
MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
BY THE VAIL-BALLOU PRESS, INC., BINGHAMTON, N. Y.
DEDICATION.
>-
To those heroic souls, who, plunging
into the wilderness at a remote period,
paved the way for civilization; yet in many
§• instances did their work without reward,
P> and now lie in obscure graves, this volume
is lovingly dedicated.
as
uu
I
CO
fM 7R
CONTENTS
PAGE
Foreword xi
One Thousand Miles in a Canoe 17
Origin of the Medicine Lodge 18
Story of the North Star 19
Legend of the Sleeping Bear 21
Scheme of an Old Squaw 23
Gaw-be-naw, the First Man 26
The Lost Tribe of Michigan 28
Na-na-bo-jo, the Ottawa Wonder-worker 34
After the Deluge 34
Legend of the Great Lakes 35
Formation of Mackinac Island 36
Joke of the Choke Cherries 36
The Chicago-e-sheeg or "Wild Onion" 36
Fooled by His Two Wives 37
Why the Weather is so Changeable 38
The Golden Age at L'Arbre Croche 41
The Indian Who Aspired to be Priest 44
Legend of the Proud Princess 47
Indian Magic 51
Selecting Names for the Indians 54
The Toad Woman 57
Why the Pine Trees Weep 63
Rapid Transit in Earlier Day 66
An Indian Lawsuit 71
How the Indians Selected a Picture for the Altar 76
Legend of the Motchi Manitou 79
The Treaty Payment 83
vii
viii CONTENTS
PACK
The Great Feast of the Ottawas 87
Outwitting a White Man 90
The Flight of "Rising Sun" (Petoskey) 94
The Great Fight Between the Clans 101
Last of the Chiefs 105
The Strange Case of Dr. Weikamp 107
Legend of the Mounds 113
The Great Muckwah 117
The Wise Chieftain of Bay View 121
The Indian Company 123
"The King of the Star" or the Legend of Mackinac Island 126
Superstitions of the Strawberry and Blackberry 131
The Moccasin Flower 134
The Hanging of Wau-goosh 135
Why Campfires Crackle 138
England's Revenge 140
Origin of the Name "Chicago" 143
An Incident of Early Mackinac 145
Legend of Harbor Point 146
Legend of the Water Lily 149
Old Man Winter 151
How the Moon and Stars Came 153
Early History of the Little Traverse Bay Region 154
L'Arbre Croche Mission (Harbor Springs) 155
Petoskey 1 60
Harbor Point 162
We-que-ton-sing 163
Cross Village 164
Glossary 167
Our Indian Nomenclature 168
ILLUSTRATIONS
The Portage at L'Arbre Croche Frontispiece
FACING
PAGE
Whispers of Love xii
Fred Ettawageshik, Chief Michigan Indian Defense Associ-
ation 18
The Sleeping Bear 20
Harbor Point and Harbor Springs with Fishing Village on
the Ice 26
Council Tree at Talbot Heights Near Bliss Farm 28
Ottawa Quill Worker 30
Old Ottawa Trail at L'Arbre Croche 32
Moonlight at L'Arbre Croche (Middle Village) 38
Old Church and Home of the Priest 40
L'Arbre Croche Mission as It Is To-day 42
Lover's Lane 4.8
Gathering of the Tribes at Wa-Ya-Ga-Mug 54
A Sylvan Path at Charlevoix 64
Island in Grand Traverse Bay 68
Old River 70
Catholic Church at Middle Village 76
Where the Indian Drum Beats at L'Arbre Croche 80
Princess Margaret Boyd 84
Negonee, 106 Years Old 88
Tom Shomin. "Arrow Maker" 92
Chief Ignatius Petoskey, After Whom the City of Petoskey
Was Named, with His Two Sons, Louis (Left) and
Enos (Right) in Entrance of Bazile Petoskey's Store
1878 96
ix
x ILLUSTRATIONS
FACING
PAGE
Indian Cemetery at Cross Village 100
Chief Blackbird 106
Rev. J. B. Weikamp 108
Father Weikamp's Sepulchre 112
An Indian Chief and Daughter 116
Sunset on Little Traverse Bay 118
Indians in Camp at Mackinac, 1870 124
The Old Fort at Mackinac Island 126
Old Indian Trail at Mackinac Island 128
In the Murmuring Forest Near Harbor Springs 132
Father Paul — Good Father and Priest to the Indians at
Cross Village for Many Years — Stages a Pageant of
Ottawa Braves and Squaws in Full Regalia and War
Costume 136
Middle Village 140
Ottawa Maiden 148
Along the Shore at Pine Lake Near Charlevoix 156
Indian Mission Church 160
The Beach at Wequetonsing 162
Catholic Church at Cross Village in 1840 164
FOREWORD
A tall, crooked pine tree overhanging a high bluff,
served to designate what was probably the most important
Indian village in the north, prior to the advent of the
white man. "Wau-go-naw-ki-sa" — the Crooked Tree —
could be seen for many miles by the occupants of approach-
ing canoes. After rounding the northwestern extremity
of what is now Emmet county, in the state of Michigan,
on their way south, it was a familiar sight, and one that
never failed to bring exultations of joy from the brave
and daring Ottawas. Just where the Crooked Tree stood
we have been unable to ascertain ; but tradition says it was
in the vicinity of Middle Village of the present day. Ac-
cording to the legend it was bent by Na-na-bo-jo. For-
merly it was straight, but as the great hunter and chief-
tain was climbing the hill one day at this point, with his
canoe over his head, the end of the boat caught on the tree
and gave him a bad fall. In anger he struck the tree a
blow with his fist and bent it over. Where he hit the
trunk a large swelling came out, and henceforward every
knot or growth protruding from a tree was called
"Na-na-bo-jo's Fist."
When the French missionaries arrived upon the scene,
xi
xii FOREWORD
they named the place "L'Arbre Croche"; and in the
course of time the whole of what is now Emmet county,
from Harbor Springs north was known by that appel-
lation. L'Arbre Croche proper was once the center of
missionary operations extending over a wide territory, and
was the largest Indian village in the region of the Great
Lakes. It was situated at a point now called Middle
Village, where a mission was established in the latter part
of the seventeenth century.
In later years the name L'Arbre Croche was applied to
the mission at Harbor Springs.
I am sure that one cannot visit the site of the famous
old village without being thrilled with inspirations of
nature or overcome by a feeling of sadness at the memories
of a departed race. The very trees and stones seem to
speak with living tongues of the glory of bygone days,
filling the soul with vivid impressions of the place that
early association made so dear to the heart of the red man.
The delightfully fringed valley and flats below the high
hill and along the beach cannot be surpassed for beauty
and loveliness of landscape anywhere on the western hemi-
sphere. Shady nooks and leafy bowers, where the Indian
lover wooed his sweetheart and told the old, old story
over again as songbirds caroled in the branches above, are
in evidence on every hand ; while long lanes and mossy
paths penetrate the forests in all directions. Standing on
the shore at the close of day, the magnificent sunset so re-
nowned in this northern country can be seen in all its
glory, filling the earth and sky with its splendor and maj-
WHISPERS OF LOVE
FOREWORD xlii
esty. Verily, the American Indian had a keen appreciation
of the beauties of nature.
Annually thousands of pleasure-seekers, tourists and
resorters from all parts of the globe roam the paths and
forests of L'Arbre Croche, picking up mementoes and en-
joying the delightful scenery and balmy atmosphere. The
fascinating charm of the whole region gives one an ad-
ditional zest to learn something of the legends and tradi-
tions that have been current among its people from time
immemorial. To fill this want, such of the L'Arbre
Croche stories as the writer has been able to gather from
reliable and indisputable sources are now offered to the
public for the first time. Legends, myths, grotesque and
ludicrous tales, based upon superstition or imagination, as
well as those relating to historical incidents, all had a
part in the life of the aborigines of L'Arbre Croche, and
are here set down precisely as related by the Indians them-
selves or by others familiar with their manners and
customs.
JOHN C. WRIGHT.
THE CROOKED TREE
ONE THOUSAND MILES IN A
CANOE
In the year 1800 a little girl was born on the banks of
Grand river, in the vicinity of what is now the village
of Muir. Her father was a noted French trader and her
mother an Indian princess, or daughter of a chief. At
that period the Grand river valley was one of the most
beautiful regions in the whole country, as indeed it is to-
day; and the little girl spent many happy days playing
along the shore or paddling in her birch bark canoe. She
often accompanied her father on his trips, frequently go-
ing with him over portages and rivers as far as Detroit
and Chicago.
When this little girl was twelve years of age her father
hired two trusty Indians to take her in a canoe from
Grand River to Mackinac Island, whither he had pre-
ceded her. Drifting down the beautiful river one bright
summer's day they emerged into Lake Michigan and
turning the prow of their little boat northward started
on their long journey. They put up a blanket for a sail
when the wind was favorable, and paddled along by easy
stages when it was calm. At night they slept by huge
campfires, and the little princess heard many tales and
legends of savage life.
17
i8 THE CROOKED TREE
Origin of the Medicine Lodge
She heard that at one time heaven and earth were con-
nected by a great vine down which fairies and spiritual
beings descended to the earth. Mortals were forbidden
by the Great Spirit to ascend this vine, but once a young
man became sick and in a delirious state climbed up far
out of sight. His aged mother was so sad at thus losing
her boy that she started after him, but her added weight
broke the vine and both came down in a heap. Then the
Great Spirit was very angry with the people. "Now," he
said, "sickness and disease will prevail amongst you, and
instead of living on forever you will die when you grow
old. There is only one thing left for you to do. Re-
member that everything that grows has some value —
nothing was made in vain. Therefore you will gather
roots and herbs and compound medicines and these will
help you when in distress." Thus was born the medi-
cine lodge and all who were initiated into its mysteries
were told the above story in great detail wonderfully em-
bellished.
As the canoe proceeded on its way its occupants caught
glimpses of roving bands of savages and of deer, elk and
wolves as they came down to the lake to drink. Eagles,
wild geese and turkeys were seen in great numbers.
When the canoe was caught out on the lake in the
darkness the Indians were guided by the stars, and one
night the little girl listened with open-eyed wonderment
to the pretty legend of the North star. She had a re-
Photo by Troup
FRED ETTAWAGESHIK
CHIEF MICHIGAN INDIAN DEFENSE ASSOCIATION
THE CROOKED TREE 19
tentive memory and remembered all these stories. The
Indians worshiped her father and did their best to keep
their precious charge entertained.
Story of the North Star
Not all Indians believed in marriage, they told her.
When a brave refused to wed, others said of him that he
belonged to the Two Cousins. This was because, years
before, two exemplary young men became very fond of
one another and made a vow never to separate. They
lived with their grandmother who prepared their meals
and dressed their game. But one day the old woman grew
weary of her work, and while the young hunters were
absent, invited two beautiful maidens from the south to
enter the wigwam. When the young hunters returned
she said:
"My children, I am growing old and weak. The work
of dressing all the game you bring is too great a task;
therefore I have asked these two beautiful young women
to become your wives, which they have consented to do."
At first the young men knew not what to say. They
went about their affairs as usual and made no effort to
cultivate the company of the beautiful maidens. But the
latter were so pleasant all the time that finally the younger
of the hunters fell in love, and the next day when he and
his friend started out again to hunt, he could scarcely kill
anything because he kept thinking of his sweetheart. He
secured only three bear-skins while his cousin took twenty-
20 THE CROOKED TREE
one. Then he confessed that he intended to return home
and get married.
"If that is the case, I shall leave and never set foot
this way again," said the other.
His friend tried to dissuade him, but he started off
towards the north.
"Although I leave you," he said, "remember, if you
are ever alone at night and need a friend, you will see
me up there in the northern heavens. If you ever get
lost in the forest or at any time cannot find your way in
the darkness, I will always be there to guide your foot-
steps."
True to his word, he then began to mount up towards
the skies, where he assumed the form of a star; and there
he is to this day — the bright North star — chasing the
bear as was his wont in the days of old when he hunted
through the woods of Michigan.
The other hunter was so chagrined over the loss of his
friend that he pined and wasted away before he could
reach home, and became only a shadow. Ever since that
day he has roamed the hills and valleys and hides from
every mortal being among the rocks and cliffs. His name
is Bah-swa-way (Echo), and he passes his time by mock-
ing and laughing at everybody.
The two beautiful maidens waited and waited for the
return of their lovers and finally in disappointment arose
high in the air to watch for them from the skies. They
are the Morning and Evening stars.
Day by day the little canoe advanced northward along
« e
0
THE CROOKED TREE 21
the wild shores of Lake Michigan. One day they passed
the little stream where Father Marquette had been
buried. The old cross was still standing.
Legend of the Sleeping Bear
Not long afterwards they could see the Sleeping Bear
Point, and the little princess listened to the story of how
in the long ago a great famine had spread over the land.
Longingly a mother bear and two famished cubs walked
the shore on the Wisconsin side, gazing wistfully at Mich-
igan, which in those days was the land of plenty as it is
today. Finally hunger overcame timidity and the bears
launched out. Nearer and nearer approached the goal as
the mother's words of encouragement urged on the weary
cubs.
When only twelve miles from the land of plenty, the
mother's heart was rent as she saw a babe sink. With
the remaining cub she struggled to gain the beach. Two
miles of slow dragging and the second of her cherished
ones sank.
The mother reached the beach and crept to a resting
place where she lay down facing the restless waters that
covered her lost ones. As she gazed, two beautiful islands
slowly rose to mark the graves. These were called the
Manitous — the home of the departed spirits.
The little princess watched the Sleeping Bear, which
was very real in those days, until they passed out of sight.
After awhile they came to a most beautiful indenta-
22 THE CROOKED TREE
tion of the coast line — Grand Traverse bay. They cut
across this to save many miles of travel and camped for
the night near Pine river (now Charlevoix). The little
girl was not weary nor sad; she was jovial and unafraid.
There was real adventure, excitement and lots of fun, too.
The Indians told many amusing things. They were not
stoical, sullen nor cruel. They saw humor in everything.
They told their little passenger of the scheme of the old
squaw who wished to appear young.
The Scheme of an Old Squaw
An old woman, wrinkled and decrepit, was seized by
the strange hallucination that she still possessed charms
sufficient to attract the young men of her village. In this
belief she dressed up in her best skins and furs and sat
down by her wigwam door, smiling and accosting the
young braves as they passed along. Of course none of
them paid any attention to her. Then some of the maid-
ens of the tribe, noticing her foolish behavior, went to the
old woman and said:
"Look here, Nokomis" (grandmother) ; "ymi are old
and wrinkled, and your beauty has all faded like that of
the dead flowers of the forest* No young man will ever
be attracted to your wigwam. You may as well cease all
your efforts and live quietly and peacefully, calmly await-
ing the end. Your days are numbered; your beauty gone
— you nevermore can be like one of us."
At these words the old woman became furious. "Be
THE CROOKED TREE 23
gone!" she said, to her tormentors. "I'll show you
whether I am too old or not!"
Then taking a string made from basswood bark, she
tied it to the lower part of one of her ears and passing it
around the back of her head, drew it taut and looped it
over the lobe of the other ear, fastening it securely. In
this way she drew all the wrinkles out of her face; and
oiling her hair nicely with a mixture of pounded char-
coal and grease and drawing it down over the string so
the latter could not show, she sat down in the glow of
her campfire and waited. The soft light shining on her
features which were now smooth and perfect, made her
look beautiful indeed.
The first young man to pass that way was immediately
fascinated by her appearance, and sat down to visit. The
old woman regaled him with many stories and charmed
him completely with her wonderful conversation. The
next night, and the next following that, found the young
man again at the wigwam of the old woman; while sev-
eral maidens having heard of the strange affair, ap-
proached and gazed on wonderingly from a distance.
They could not understand the situation at all.
On the third evening, however, while the old woman,
beaming with smiles, was talking and making gestures,
the string behind her ears suddenly snapped and her face
became a mass of wrinkles even worse than before.
The young brave jumped to his feet horror-stricken
and bounded out of the wigwam, while the maidens
fairly rolled on the ground with laughter. The young
24 THE CROOKED TREE
man would probably be running yet had he not met a
beautiful girl whom he captivated and then led in honor
to his wigwam.
The next day our travelers reached Bear river, now
Petoskey. There was no settlement on the shore at that
time, but there was an Indian village at Bear lake, the
source of Bear river (now Walloon lake). They tarried
only a little while, then crossed Little Traverse bay to the
harbor on the north side, called by the Indians Weque-
tonsing. Here there was only a little high ground and but
one wigwam. Farther up the shore, however, was a very
large village, the famous Crooked Tree, or L'Arbre
Croche of the early French. There our friends were well
received and stopped a whole day. Many stories were re-
lated and the little princess heard the wonderful tradi-
tion of Petoskey and the discovery of the Happy Hunting
Grounds.
The next day the voyagers started on what they sup-
posed to be the last lap of their journey. When they
arrived at Mackinac the British had invaded the island
and a battle was momentarily expected. All was excite-
ment. The little girl along with all the women and chil-
dren of the island was placed in an old abandoned dis-
tillery on the west side for safety. But her father, who
thought worlds of his daughter, not knowing what might
happen, asked the two Indians if they would not take her
on to St. Paul, Minn., where her oldest brother was con-
ducting a trading post. At first they refused to under-
THE CROOKED TREE 25
take so perilous a trip, but his offer was so generous that
finally they consented.
Skirting the northern shore of the lake over precisely
the route traveled by Pere Marquette, they entered Green
Bay, passed through the Fox and Wisconsin rivers and
floated out upon the broad bosom of the Mississippi. They
passed through a hostile country where at times they
dared not speak above a whisper for fear of being dis-
covered. Their adventures and experiences were many,
but at last the faithful Indians and their protegee reached
St. Paul in safety. There the little girl remained a few
years and then returned to Mackinac over the same route.
She was adopted by the famous Madam LaFramboise
and received a liberal education in French. Afterwards
she taught school at St. Ignace for fifteen years. She once
entertained President Zachary Taylor; knew Schoolcraft,
the historian, and Beaumont, the famous physician; she
was personally acquainted with numerous Indian chiefs,
sachems and medicine men; she met "King" Strang,
Governor Cass and many other notables. She was at home
with bishops, scholars and statesmen and was the friend
of all.
This little girl with her remarkable experiences and
history afterward became the grandmother of the author
and related all these stories and many others to him when
a lad. The little girl's name was Sophia Bailly, and at
Mackinac Island she married Henry G. Graveraet, Jr.,
the son of a German soldier of the American Revolution
26 THE CROOKED TREE
and moved to Little Traverse (now Haibor Springs),
just previous to the Civil war. From here she often
visited the old Indian village of L'Arbre Croche, where
she mingled with the natives and listened attentively to
their tales.
Gaw-be-naw, the First Man
The first among the Indians of L'Arbre Croche in story
and tradition was Gaw-be-naw. He was said to be the
first man created by the Gitchi Manitou (Great Spirit).
He ruled over the land and the sea; named all the ani-
mals; taught the people how to plant and make gardens;
how to hunt and fish ; how to build wigwams and canoes ;
how to count; how to make clothing from the skins of
wild animals; and many, many other things. He was a
prophet, philosopher, seer and natural born leader.
The snowshoe, bow and arrow, stone tomahawk, pe-
no-gawn, "warm winter house," and all such devices and
inventions were said to have been introduced by Gaw-be-
naw. Volumes could be written of his genius and prowess.
No task was too difficult for him to accomplish, no ob-
stacle too great for this wonderful man to overcome. He
was greatly beloved by the Great Spirit, who favored him
in all things.
Gaw-be-naw lived for a great many years — how long
nobody knows. During the early part of his reign all the
people were happy; there were no wars, no dissensions — •
THE CROOKED TREE 27
no trouble of any kind. As he grew old and approached
the end of his career, however, a great drouth and famine
spread over the earth. This was sent as a punishment to
Gaw-be-naw, who foolishly thinking himself all powerful
in his advanced years, tried to make the crops grow with-
out consulting the Great Spirit. In vain Gaw-be-naw
fasted and prayed for rain, so that the people would not
die of starvation. No rain came, and at last Gaw-be-naw
said he would journey to the realm of the Great Spirit
and intercede for the people in person.
He traveled many, many days, and at last came to the
dwelling place of the Ruler of Creation, who said :
"Gaw-be-naw, my child, you have been very disobedi-
ent. I have made you ruler over the land and sea; but I
alone have power over the sun and moon, to make the
crops grow and the trees to bear fruit. But though you
have displeased me I will have compassion on my people.
Hereafter Ah-nim-o-kee will sit at my side and when rain
is needed he will beat upon his drum. When he pounds
with his drumstick, thunder will roll over the earth;
when he opens his eyes, lightning will flash; and the
people will rejoice, for it will be a sign that I will send
water to moisten the ground so that grain will grow in
abundance and famine will no longer occur."
So, away past the rivers and mountains, far, far be-
yond the seas — much farther than man has since traveled,
sits an old warrior with his back toward the earth, Ah-
nim-o-kee, the Thunderer, who at a signal from the
Great Spirit beats upon his drum and flashes his eyes
28 THE CROOKED TREE
and thus brings the rain to revive and nourish vegeta-
tion.
The Lost Tribe of Michigan
The origin of the American Indian has been a subject
of speculation and conjecture ever since Columbus dis-
covered the new world. The Shawnees had a tradition
that their ancestors crossed the ocean, while other tribes
claimed that the race had its beginning in the great
northwest. Certain racial characteristics indicate that the
Indians descended from the Chinese, some of whom may
have crossed into Alaska at a remote period. As related by
the historian Shea, one of the early American missionaries,
Father Grelon, afterwards went to China. While travel-
ing through the plains of Tartary, he met a Huron woman
whom he had known on the shores of the Great Lakes.
Having been sold from tribe to tribe, she had reached the
interior of Asia. There on the steppes of that distant land
she related the wonderful story to her aged pastor. It was
this fact that first led to the knowledge of the near ap-
proach of America to Asia. Again, the veneration of the
wild Indian for the root of the gentian plant was almost
identical to that of the Chinese.
Indeed there are some ethnologists who claim that
America was the first continent to be inhabited and that
Asia and Europe received their original population from
this source. They produce geological proofs for such a
contention. But these many speculations only lead us on
COUNCIL TREE AT TALBOT HEIGHTS NEAR BLISS FARM
Many councils were held around this famous tree in ancient
times. One of the largest Indian gatherings in history took place
there in 1787. Twenty tribes were represented.
THE CROOKED TREE 29
and on into the realm of conjecture. The great outstand-
ing fact is that when the white man came the Indian was
here and had many interesting legends and traditions.
The first traces we find of the Ottawas are near the
river that bears their name in Canada. Belonging to the
Algonquin stock, they early engaged in warfare with the
Iroquois Confederation or Five Nations, by whom they
were eventually driven westward. Crossing into Mich-
igan at the Sault Ste. Marie river, they came in contact
with the Chippewas (or Ojibways), with whom they
formed a strong alliance. The two tribes were much alike
in manners and customs and freely intermingled. To-
gether they journeyed southward, crossing the Straits
of Mackinaw, and by mutual consent the Ottawas oc-
cupied what is now Emmet county and founded their
village of Wau-go-naw-ki-sa, or "The Crooked Tree."
Farther south they came in contact with the Potawat-
tamies, another similar and friendly people, and the three
tribes formed a strong alliance and styled themselves the
"Three Brothers." Together they practically controlled
what is now the state of Michigan — the Chippewas, the
upper peninsula; the Ottawas, the islands and region
south of the Straits of Mackinaw as far as Grand river;
the Potawattamies, the southern portion. Of course, there
were a number of other tribes, such as the Hurons, the
Miamis, etc., but as a rule they did not reach far north.
Away to the west were the savage Sioux ; to the east, the
equally blood-thirsty Iroquois; and between the two the
"Three Brothers" vacillated with varying degrees of sue-
30 THE CROOKED TREE
cess. At one time the powerful Iroquois cleared the lower
peninsula of their enemies as far as the shores of Lake
Michigan. At another time, about the year 1671, the
Ottawas on the warpath against the Sioux, secured a
large supply of arms and ammunition at Montreal; were
joined by the Hurons at Mackinac and the Sac and Fox
Indians of Green Bay, marched through northern Wis-
consin— a well-armed body of over a thousand warriors
— and confidently attacked the enemy in the St. Croix
valley. Utterly defeated, they retreated through the snow-
covered woods, amidst sufferings and privation that
equal those of the Belgians of our own day. The heavy
loss sustained by the Hurons, who bravely covered the
rear, was appalling, and that tribe was greatly reduced.
The remnants of the army passed through the Arbre
Croche country on their way home, and their desperate
condition led them to acts of cannibalism.
When the Ottawas first crossed the Straits of Macki-
naw on their way south, the territory now comprised in
the county of Emmet was occupied by a small tribe of
peaceful Indians, known as the Mush-quah-tas, or Under-
ground Indians, so named because they were said to have
come from the West, where they formerly lived in caves.
They had gardens and comfortable houses and their
principal village was located at least five miles from the
coast, so as not to be exposed to warlike tribes traveling
along the lake. They welcomed the Ottawas and smoked
with them the pipe of peace. But trouble soon arose which
THE CROOKED TREE 31
resulted disastrously for the peaceful Mush-quah-tas and
provides the only case recorded in the annals of Indian
warfare where an entire tribe of several hundred mem-
bers, together with the women and children, was totally
exterminated in one terrific onslaught.
The Ottawas were in the habit of going on long jour-
neys of conquest, in which they often secured many
captives and much plunder from vanquished tribes. These
forays were very displeasing to their Mush-quah-ta neigh-
bors, who absolutely refused to aid them in any of their
battles. After an unsuccessful raid against the Sacs in
Wisconsin, in which they had suffered considerable loss,
the Ottawas returned home one summer's evening, loud
with wails and lamentations. As they passed the Mush-
quah-ta village, some of the young men who were loung-
ing about laughed at them and told them their punishment
was well deserved; these young men also foolishly pelted
them with balls of wet sand and ashes wrapped up in
forest leaves.
This was an insult which no self-respecting Ottawa
could endure unchallenged. Sullenly the mourners made
their way homeward, stung to the quick by the treatment
of their neighbors. Hurriedly summoning a war council,
they decided to attack the Mush-quah-tas that night.
An Ottawa maiden, who had fallen in love with a
brave of the doomed tribe, discovered the plan and re-
solved to warn the Mush-quah-tas of their impending
fate. Leaving her wigwam at dusk, she undertook to reach
32 THE CROOKED TREE
the Mush-quah-ta village by a circuitous route, but was
detected, overtaken and strangled by two powerful war-
riors.
As night came on the dark forms of the plumed and
painted Ottawas drew close to the wigwams of the sleep-
ing and unsuspecting Mush-quah-tas. Not a sound could
be heard except the occasional hooting of an owl or the
scurrying of some furry creature through the underbrush.
Suddenly with a chorus of deafening yells and uplifted
tomahawks the Ottawas rushed upon their enemies and
began the attack. The Mush-quah-tas, taken at a disad-
vantage, could offer but feeble resistance. Startled from
their peaceful slumber in the dead of night, they bravely
reached for their war clubs in a desperate effort to de-
fend themselves. The older men leaped in front of their
wives and children and received the fatal blow while pro-
tecting their loved ones ; the young men made heroic
efforts to save mothers, sisters and sweethearts. But it was
too late. Bleeding and dying they went down on all sides
under the telling blows of the victorious Ottawas. The
lost tribe had incurred the enmity of a powerful nation
and had to pay the penalty. Only one or two escaped,
who, with a few families living farther south, journeyed
to the present site of St. Joseph, Mich., where they again
established themselves.
Later when firearms were introduced among the In-
dians, the Ottawas, in a desire to try their effectiveness
in battle, hunted up their old enemies, the Mush-quah-
OLD OTTAWA TRAIL AT L'ARBRE
CROCHE
THE CROOKED TREE
33
tas and exterminated those who had escaped from the
former massacre. Thus the revenge of the injured Ot-
tawas was decisive and complete and the name Mush-
quah-ta become a synonym for scorn and contempt.
NA-NA-BO-JO, THE OTTAWA
WONDER-WORKER
Na-na-bo-jo was a great chieftain with supernatural
powers. He performed many marvelous feats and practi-
cally all the great natural wonders of the country are
ascribed to his ingenuity. To the Indians of L'Arbre
Croche and to the Algonquin tribes generally Na-na-bo-jo
was a demi-god and miracle man. In some of his pranks
he acted the part of clown; many of his episodes were
of a humorous nature and generally he was the subject
of his own joke. It is hard to understand this character
in Indian mythology.1 While ascribing to him unheard-of
and wonderful abilities, the Indians ridiculed Na-na-bo-jo
and laughed at his accomplishments. He must not be con-
fused with the Gitchi Manitou, or Great Spirit, of
whom the Indians never spoke except with reverence and
great respect. Na-na-bo-jo was a wise leader and a sage
who benefited mankind and overcame the power of
Evil.
After the Deluge
Many Indian tribes had a tradition regarding a great
deluge that once submerged this continent. The Ottawas
iRead "The Great Myth" by John C. Wright.
34
THE CROOKED TREE 35
of L'Arbre Croche say that when Na-na-bo-jo saw that
the water had covered all the land and there was no place
for him to set his foot, he caught a muskrat and sent him
to the bottom of the sea to bring up some earth. The
little animal returned with as much sand as it could carry
between its paws, which it deposited at Na-na-bo-jo's feet.
This it continued to do until an island was formed. Na-
na-bo-jo made a man out of the ground, which he ani-
mated with his breath, and again populated the earth.
Legend of the Great Lakes
As this demi-god was walking along the shores of Lake
Michigan one day in search of food, he came to a patch
of a certain kind of sea weed that he greatly relished. He
gorged himself on his favorite dish and lay down to rest.
He slept for a long time, until the water, by its gradual
movement, had nearly submerged him, and awoke just in
time to save himself from a watery grave. He was highly
incensed at this action of the water, and, rising to his
full height, extended his hands over the lake and said:
"Hereafter, that you may fool no one else in this man-
ner, you will become smaller and smaller until you are as
a draught of water in the palm of my hand."
Since that time the water in the Great Lakes has re-
ceded, and it is believed that the day will come when
nothing but the great sea basins will remain to show
where the lakes existed.
36 THE CROOKED TREE
Formation of Mackinac Island
Coming to the Straits of Mackinaw, Na-na-bo-jo was
at a loss to know how to cross. After pondering some
time he decided to build a bridge, which he made from
rocks that he picked up along the shore. After he had
crossed over, a big wind arose and upset the bridge. The
debris sticking up out of the water formed Mackinac,
Round and Bois Blanc islands.
Joke of the Choke Cherries
Going into the interior of the country, Na-na-bo-jo
soon came to a beautiful river on whose unruffled and
smooth surface he saw great bunches of delicious red
cherries. Bending over to procure them, he plunged into
the water head foremost, for what he had mistaken for
cherries were in reality only their reflection from a tree
above. Tearing the tree up by the roots he threw it far to
one side, exclaiming:
"Tawa tah! Hereafter your fruit will be black and
will parch the throat of whoever eats it." These are the
wild choke cherries.
The Chicago-e-sheeg or "Wild Onion"
After a long and painful march through the forest he
became very weary and hungry, for he had been unable to
kill any game. Coming to a patch of leeks, or wild onions,
THE CROOKED TREE 37
which at that time were very sweet and palatable, he
feasted himself liberally, and resumed his journey. He had
gone but a little distance, however, when he was gripped
with severe pains in the stomach.
"Tawa tah ! It's the onions," said he.
Then pulling one up he pinched it disdainfully and
said :
"You will now taste and smell strong and no longer
be fit for food."
Fooled by His Two Wwes
After this he returned home, where he had been in the
habit of beating his two wives because they were so
dilatory in preparing his meals. But upon this occasion
they met him at the door, one on either side, with a bowl
of hot min-daw-min-aw-bo,1 corn soup, in each hand,
which they held close to his face and said, "Your meal is
all ready, now eat to your heart's content."
Immediately Na-na-bo-jo was all smiles. "Tawa tah!"
he exclaimed. "I see you are good wives and I will beat
you no more."
Thereafter Na-na-bo-jo and his wives enjoyed great
domestic felicity which was promoted in every other wig-
wam by the squaws looking carefully after the epicurean
wants of their lord and master.
1 "Awbo" is a suffix used in all names of liquids, as peen-awbo
for potato1 soup, jees-awbo for turnip soup, she-min-awbo for
cider, ne-beesh-awbo for tea, etc.
41
WHY THE WEATHER IS SO
CHANGEABLE
As those who live around the Great Lakes are aware,
this region of the country is noted for its changeable
climate. It is common to hear the expression that Michi-
gan has a dozen different weathers in a day. It has always
been so, as far back as there are any records to show, and
the Indians account for this changeableness of climate by
a story they tell regarding Na-na-bo-jo and his brother
Pee-puck-e-wis.
These two once ran a foot race from the far south,
and from the very start, as was the case in all contests in
which he ever had a part, Na-na-bo-jo took the lead. As
customary he was happy and pleasant wherever he showed
himself, and all nature smiled as he ran along; the sun
shone brightly and the birds greeted him with merry
songs; little girls threw flowers in his pathway; the
squirrels, deer and bears and all animals of the woods
came out and gambolled in happiness, saying: "Here
comes Na-na-bo-jo, our friend, who makes the pleasant
weather."
All summer long he kept advancing northward and
every day was warm and bright and there were no signs
of frost or any disturbance in the atmosphere. As the
38
w
X
o
o
«
O
w
a:
THE CROOKED TREE 39
contest proceeded Pee-puck-e-wis, who was angry at being
so easily outdistanced, redoubled his efforts and began to
catch up. Then he noticed that everywhere that Na-na-
bo-jo went the weather was beautiful, the flowers bloomed,
the birds sang and nothing interfered with his progress.
He became very jealous and decided to punish the earth
and put a stop to his brother's pleasant journey. So he
scooped water up in his hand and threw it in the air and
called on the winds to aid him in making bad weather.
He first asked the south wind to blow a hot, arid wave
that would parch the land and dry up all vegetation ; then
he asked the east wind to bring the rain and cause floods
and rivers to overflow; as he came along he made the
clouds gather to obscure the sun, so that Na-na-bo-jo had
difficulty in finding his way. But at intervals the latter
would look back and smile and the clouds would move
aside and allow the sun to shine. Then Pee-puck-e-wis
called on the west wind to bring frost and hail and sleet.
By this time Na-na-bo-jo had reached the Great Lakes
and needed rest. So he camped on the shore of Lake
Michigan, where he arrived some time in the month of
October. Then there was a spell of beautiful weather
again, when the leaves were turning to red and gold. A
sort of hazy, smoky atmosphere settled over the earth,
and for a time Na-na-bo-jo rested and had peace — it was
the period of the glorious Indian summer. But his brother
soon located him, and called on the fierce north wind to
bring the snow and cold, and Na-na-bo-jo had to hurry
on. Occasionally he would look back and smile, and this
40 THE CROOKED TREE
would always bring forth the sunshine; but his brother,
now close upon his heels, in anger kept calling on the
different winds to blow and bluster, and thus it con-
tinued until the contestants turned and passed to the far
west.
Whenever the climatic changes were particularly fre-
quent and noticeable, the Indians always exclaimed:
"Na-na-bo-jo and Pee-puck-e-wis are near by, running
their race!"
a »r
•2 M
« c
O 'u
K S
U
THE GOLDEN AGE AT L'ARBRE
CROCHE
Shortly after the Mush-qua-ta massacre, L'Arbre
Croche grew to be a veritable city; together with the
neighboring settlements and wigwams lying along the
coast, it numbered many hundreds of inhabitants, and
became the capital, so to speak, or central point from
which all activities in the north were directed. At the
time of Pontiac's Conspiracy the great chieftain was in-
formed that L'Arbre Croche would furnish him with
nearly 500 warriors — a promise which no doubt would
have been kept had not a jealous feeling been aroused by
the Chippewas attacking Fort Mackinaw without first
consulting the chief of L'Arbre Croche. So populous was
the settlement at one time that an Indian might walk a
distance of fully twenty miles along the shore and find a
wigwam every few rods. Through excavations in the
neighborhood, many articles and weapons of copper have
been discovered, leading one to the belief that an even
older occupancy connected this region with the copper
deposits of Lake Superior.
Many ancient cornfields and abandoned apple orchards
in the region roundabout L'Arbre Croche attest to the
golden age that reigned among these simple people at a
42 THE CROOKED TREE
later period. Careful investigation convinces us that there
was a degree of physical comfort, moral culture and social
and domestic happiness among them far exceeding what
most people might imagine. Houses of mats, bark and
split timber were substantially made and proved not un-
comfortable; the "ah-go-beem-wa-gun" was a small sum-
mer house for young men, constructed on an elevated
platform, and reached by a ladder.
The "o-dup-pe-neeg," native potato, and many varieties
of wild fruits and berries grew in great abundance; low
marshy places furnished rushes, reeds and tough, fibrous
grasses for mats and other household articles; sugar was
obtained from the sap of the giant maples in the vicinity,
and the bark of the basswood and birch trees was put to
innumerable uses. The hunter had to go but a few steps
into the forest to secure as much game as he was able to
carry home.
The people were morally clean and their rules rigidly
enforced. There was no swearing nor bad language used ;
aged persons were treated with great respect; it was the
height of insult for a woman to step over the sleeping or
prostrate form of a warrior, and those who did so were
severely punished. The gardens were generally at a dis-
tance from the village; the owners repaired to them at
the proper season, to do their planting and other work,
living for the time being in portable tents ; the crops were
not owned in common, but any persons needing food were
always generously supplied by those who were more for-
tunate.
THE CROOKED TREE 43
These people were also the first and original resorters
of the Great Lakes region. They spent the warm sum-
mer months at or near the village of L'Arbre Croche ; the
men being occupied by hunting, fishing, in the making of
weapons and pipes, or lounging about; the women weav-
ing beautifully ornamented mats in colors, made from
rushes and bark of the slippery elm; fashioning baskets,
bags, pails, etc., and attending the gardens. But when
the cold blasts of winter began to arrive, gradually they
migrated toward the south, stopping along the coast as
occasion might require, and going as far as the hunting
and trapping grounds of northern Indiana and Illinois.
Though always attracted by the country immediately sur-
rounding the Great Lakes, they were very active in their
movements. Indications of their journeys have been found
as far west as the Mississippi river and even at the foot-
hills of the Rocky Mountains. For the most part, each
season found them migrating with the birds and enjoying
as much prosperity and happiness as the country was cap-
able of producing for a people in their stage of develop-
ment.
THE INDIAN WHO ASPIRED TO BE
PRIEST
The church at L'Arbre Croche prospered under the
guiding spirit of its first missionary. After a few months
his visits became frequent, and finally he took up his abode
permanently among the people he had learned to love.
When not occupied by his clerical duties, he visited the
Indians in their wigwams and houses, assisting them in
various ways, besides instructing them in the arts of
peace.
Among other things, he became greatly interested in
watching the men and women manufacture different ar-
ticles from birch bark. From this commodity they made
canoes, buckets, wigwams and many utensils for the
home. The beauty of its texture and the many layers into
which it could be separated suggested to him the idea of
making fancy articles to be offered for sale in the marts
of commerce. He accordingly told the Indians to color
porcupine quills in gorgeous hues, make up many differ-
ent kinds and sizes of boxes and work out flowers on the
bark. Together with a collection of mats, basswood bark
bags, etc., he proposed taking these things with him the
following spring on a trip to Paris. There he would ex-
hibit the articles and endeavor to establish a regular
market for such wares. The Indians went to work with a
44
THE CROOKED TREE 45
will and turned out many beautiful specimens of their
handiwork.
During these winter days and evenings the missionary
became particularly attached to one young man who
seemed to excel in whatever he attempted to do. More-
over he had a thirst for the white man's knowledge, which
was an admirable trait. The missionary provided him
with books and papers and taught him the rudiments of
the French language. He learned rapidly, became the
priest's assistant in all his work and was a trusted and
faithful servant. He had been baptized by the name of
"Joseph," but this name not being readily pronounced
by the natives, it was corrupted into "Zozep," and he
was known to all by that cognomen.
Finally the time arrived for the missionary to depart
on his visit to his beloved France. The Indians in their
enthusiasm had manufactured many more articles than he
could possibly take with him; in fact, there were more
than ten persons could have carried in those days of
primitive transportation facilities.
He made a careful selection of the best, however, and
told them to keep the rest until his return. Before de-
parting he called Zozep to one side and gave him in-
structions as to what he should do during his absence.
He proposed to leave his flock in the young man's
care, and appealed to him to do the best he could to min-
ister to his people's wants and keep them in the right
path.
Zozep promised faithfully to do what his good father
46 THE CROOKED TREE
requested. So he was given the keys of the church and
the parish house, along with many fervent blessings, and
the missionary seemed highly pleased that he could leave
his affairs in such good hands. After bidding adieu to each
one, and making a final admonition to Zozep to look after
everything in a proper manner, he embarked in a canoe
with several Indian escorts, to begin his long voyage by
the way of Montreal.
About a year elapsed after the missionary's departure,
without any word from him, when suddenly the village
was thrown into a great state of excitement by the ar-
rival of an Indian runner from Mackinac, who brought
word that the priest had returned and would arrive at
L'Arbre Croche in a few days. At the appointed time his
canoe could be seen approaching the shore, but when he
set foot on land, only one or two Indians were on hand
to greet him, and the village seemed almost deserted,
although he had brought many presents with him and had
much to tell the people.
When he asked about the others, he was told that they
were all attending church.
"You then have another missionary," he said. "Has
one come during my absence?"
"Oh, no," replied the Indians, "they are listening to
Zozep."
Forthwith the missionary made his way to the church,
and on entering, behold Zozep attired in clerical vest-
ments, standing in the pulpit and expounding the gospel
in his native tongue.
THE CROOKED TREE 47
As soon as the missionary could recover from his sur-
prise, he asked an Indian standing near him, how long
this had been going on.
He was then informed that Zozep had been preaching
regularly for several months; had also been hearing con-
fessions and imposing penances.
The priest threw up his hands in holy horror. Sum-
moning Zozep, he reprimanded him severely and de-
manded an explanation of his strange conduct.
Zozep, smiling blandly, said he thought he was only
doing as the priest would like to have him. He had con-
sidered it his duty to take full charge of affairs and had
told the Indians to be good and threatened them with
severe punishment if they disobeyed. Strange as it may
seem, the Indians had listened attentively to his sermons
and apparently had great confidence in him.
As usual the missionary forgave his protege, and it has
been said, laughed heartily over the affair when the young
man was not present. Even after that, Zozep was called
on to "make a talk" occasionally, but it is not recorded
that he was ever again allowed to hear confessions or don
the priest's vestments.
Legend of the Proud Princess
The Indians of L'Arbre Croche had a broad appre-
ciation of humor, especially the kind which placed some
despised or hated person in an embarrassing or humiliat-
ing predicament. It is said that the braves laughed up-
48 THE CROOKED TREE
roariously as they gathered about the camp fires of an eve-
ning and listened to some old squaw relate the following
story :
A certain chief had an only daughter, who, by reason
of her lofty position, became very proud. She held her
head on high and looked with disdain on all the other
people of the village, for she thought none of them good
enough to associate with her. She said if she ever got mar-
ried it would have to be with a worthy chief of some
other tribe.
Late one afternoon in her self-imposed seclusion she
withdrew to the rear of her wigwam, where in a spirit of
amusement she made the image of a man out of mud and
clay.
"There," said she, after finishing the figure, "you are
just as good as all the other men around here. It is in-
deed strange that such a beautiful creature as I am could
make such a homely and ugly looking thing. I can assure
you that if you were alive I would never become your
wife." And giving it a poke of derision she ran laughingly
into the tent.
But the cold air of evening coming on, made the image
rigid, and feeling its strength, it suddenly stood erect — a
full plumed warrior.
"Tawa tah!" he exclaimed. "How bracing is the cold
air. It has made me a great and strong man."
Then thanking the Manitou of the locality for con-
ferring this wonderful favor upon him, he advanced to
LOVER'S LANE
Section of an Old Indian trail at Roaring Brook.
THE CROOKED TREE 49
the wigwam. Opening the flap he cautiously entered and
asked to see the chief's daughter.
Her mother, taken by surprise at seeing such a hand-
some man, hastily summoned the young woman, saying,
"Put on your best garments, my daughter, and be as
polite as possible; a handsome man of another tribe has
come to see you. Now is your chance — if he asks you to
be his wife, do not refuse him."
The girl came forward and fell immediately in love
with the noble looking stranger.
He told her he had come from a great distance to claim
her and if she accepted him he would be obliged to ask
her to return with him at once.
The girl readily agreed to his proposal ; as also did the
chief, her father. So her mother packed what belongings
the bride could carry and the happy couple started on
their way.
Everything went well during the cold hours of the
night; but when the rays of the morning sun began to
strike and warm the hurrying brave he grew faint and
sick at heart.
Soon the bride, who was by this time a long distance
in the rear, came to a moccasin lying in the middle of the
path.
"Why, that belongs to my husband," said she, pick-
ing it up. "I wonder how he came to lose it?"
A moment later she came to a legging.
Picking that up also, she traveled on perplexed.
50 THE CROOKED TREE
Then in succession she came to his other belongings all
strung along the path, first his belt, then his shirt, bow
and arrows and war club.
"My goodness, what can have happened to him?" she
said to herself.
Soon she stumbled over a foot, then a leg, and at last
all huddled up in a little heap was the mud and clay
that she had mounded together in the image of a man.
Then she remembered what she had said when she
made it, and felt humiliated beyond expression. Turning
back, she retreated shamefacedly to her parents' wigwam.
All the young men of the village, having heard of the
affair, were lined up to greet her. As she appeared, they
laughed and hooted. For days afterwards she felt so
ashamed she would not show herself.
Her experience cured her of her folly, and she became
convinced that the young men of her tribe were fully
as good as those of any other. She married the first one
who proposed to her, who happened to be about as homely
a man as there was in the neighborhood, but they lived
very happily together.
INDIAN MAGIC
There were many feats of magic performed by the In-
dians of L'Arbre Croche that were truly marvelous. Or-
ders and societies were maintained in which there were
different degrees of proficiency, and the secrets were care-
fully guarded by the magicians and medicine men.
Two feats were commonly practised, in which the
magic men were so adept that their fame traveled far and
wide, and others considered them little less than super-
natural beings. The first was the chees-o-kee, "lodge-
shaking," and the other sko-da-Manitou-ka-win, or "go-
ing in fire."
In the lodge-shaking feat, the performer, usually an
old man, would seat himself in the center of a little wig-
wam, which was raised from the ground on all sides so
that the spectators could see that no one touched it in any
way. He would begin chanting and drumming on a tom-
tom, first slowly, then faster and faster, and finally the
tent would commence to sway back and forth, increasing
its speed with the music, until it seemed like an animate
object; it would shake violently and sometimes the top
would nearly touch the ground in its action. The feat
was witnessed many times by white people, and a com-
mittee of citizens appointed to investigate the matter at
Mackinac Island in 1847 reported that it could find no
Si
52 THE CROOKED TREE
fraud in the exhibition and therefore it must be the re-
sult of genuine Indian magic or witchcraft. Some of the
more superstitious declared it was the work of the
devil.
The feat of "going in fire" was more elaborate, spectac-
ular and awe-inspiring than any other. It had to be per-
formed in the night time and great precautions were taken
and wonderful preparations made for it. The magician
would assume the form and don the mask of some animal,
such as a bear, a wolf or a fox, and anoint his body with
certain kinds of oils and extracts. Then starting on a
run, he was said to go like the wind and become invis-
ible, except, at intervals, when he would emit a bright
light. The practice was usually employed by some evil
person who wished to revenge himself upon an enemy. It
was said that at a first visit from one "in fire" the victim
fell sick and hardly ever failed to die upon the third and
last visit, although there were medicines compounded to
counteract the effect, which sometimes prevailed if taken
in time. It is hard to account for this strange illusion, ex-
cept on the theory that the liquids with which the body
was anointed were of such a nature that they produced a
sort of phosphorescent light as the person traveled along.
The rest no doubt was the result of imagination and su-
perstition on the part of the on-lookers. Nevertheless,
whenever an Indian spoke of "going in fire" it was with
abated breath, and anyone claiming to be a victim of this
strange custom would grow pale and ghastly at the
THE CROOKED TREE
53
thought, enduring all manner of mental torture and an-
guish.
The missionaries always deplored these practices among
the Indians and did all they could to discourage them, but
in spite of their efforts the customs continued for many
years, and were common at L'Arbre Croche as late as
1860 and 1865.
SELECTING NAMES FOR THE
INDIANS
Upon one occasion a large crowd assembled at the vil-
lage to witness some of the feats of the medicine men.
The performance continued for several days with great
interest, so much so, in fact, that the priest in charge of
the mission decided that something would have to be
done to counteract the effect. So he proposed to some of
the older Indians that if they would abandon their work
of magic, which was displeasing to God, he would call a
big meeting and give each one a name, the same as the
French and English people had, by which they would be
known for all time after.
The Indians assented and adjourned from their own
meeting place to a location near the little church.
After an effective and proper ceremony, the Indians
who wished white names seated themselves in a row upon
the ground, Indian fashion, and the priest proceeded by
asking the first one what name he preferred.
"Maudit chien," said the Indian, in all earnestness, re-
peating the French words for "damn dog."
"Oh, that is terrible!" exclaimed the good father;
"you must never say such bad words."
"What name do you wish?" he then asked, turning
to the next.
"Sacre crapo" (cursed toad), was the reply.
54
o
THE CROOKED TREE 55
"Mercy," said the priest, "I'm surprised at such vul-
garity. I cannot give you a name like that." And with a
look of disgust he passed on to the next.
"I hope you have selected a better name than the
others," he said.
"Pauvre diable" (poor devil), was the reply.
"What infamy," said the priest, wringing his hands
and passing on.
The next Indian wished to be called "enfant de 1'enfer"
(child of hell), still another asked the sobriquet of "tete
d'escabo" (blockhead), and so on, clear around the
circle.
At length the missionary raised his hands on high in
despair. "What can be the trouble with all these poor peo-
ple?" he exclaimed. "Where did you learn such bad
language? I never heard its equal before!"
"Those are the words the Frenchmen use," replied
the Indians, "and we supposed they were fine words, they
use them so much. We've learned them all by heart, and
we thought they must be grand names."
"You are very wrong," said the father; "those are not
good names but bad ones." He then explained to them
the words and their meaning, and afterwards selected
suitable and appropriate titles for all, with which they
were baptized. The latter names are those that are still
common among the natives of this region.
For many years the custom also prevailed at L'Arbre
Croche of giving Indian names to white people. Those
56 THE CROOKED TREE
who wished to be so honored would state their desire to
the chief and the names would be conferred upon them at
an appointed feast with suitable ceremonies. The names
selected by the Indians upon such occasions were gen-
erally very appropriate, often indicating the man's busi-
ness or some peculiar trait of his character; sometimes
they were not highly complimentary, but were always ac-
curate in designating the person to whom applied.
A leading merchant of the village once expressed his
desire to have an Indian name and was accordingly in-
vited to a feast given for the purpose. This merchant was
not particularly popular among the Indians, who con-
sidered him very penurious and inclined to be tricky in
his dealings. Nevertheless the ceremony proceeded with
much jollity and at last he was told that he was to be
named "Bub-big."
He was very proud of the name and repeated it over
many times. He lost no time in telling his friends about
it and all congratulated him upon the honor, because, it
must be stated, only leading citizens, as a rule, could
aspire to be thus christened at a public feast.
But finally the thought struck him that he would like
to know what the name meant in the Indian language.
He accordingly asked a native who entered his store soon
after, what the word "Bub-big" meant. He was at once
told that "Bub-big" meant "flea," and though he was
not as proud of his Indian name as before, it clung to him
ever after.
THE TOAD WOMAN
Me-non-a-qua 1 came out of her wigwam, took the
highly embroidered tick-i-naw-gun (cradle), in which
her pretty baby was tightly laced, and hanging it on the
limb of a nearby tree, started toward the spring a few
rods distant for a pail of water.
At that moment the face of old Muck-kuk-kee-qua
(toad woman) peered through the bushes, and as Me-non-
a-qua disappeared from view down the pathway, she
quickly darted out, seized the tickinawgun with its
precious contents and ran towards her hut across the
valley.
When Menonaqua returned and discovered that her
baby was gone she was overcome with grief and set up
a loud lamentation. She had carefully guarded the little
one since its birth and had been enjoined by her husband,
the great chief, that very morning, before he departed on
his hunting trip, not to leave his son alone a moment lest
he be kidnapped by some evil person. The child was so
perfect and pretty it was the idol of its father.
Menonaqua lay moaning at the entrance of the wig-
1 The suffix "qua" indicates the feminine gender in the Ottawa
language. Though she might have another name, a man's wife
could always be designated by adding "qua" to his name. It
is also the root of the word "squaw," but is properly pronounced
with the "a" long.
57
58 THE CROOKED TREE
warn when the chief returned home. She had not the
temerity to tell him what had occurred; but not seeing
the tickinawgun, he mistrusted that something terrible
had taken place, and half surmising the truth, demanded :
"Where is my son?"
"Oh, my husband, don't be angry. I left him hanging
on a tree while I went after water, and though I was
gone but a moment, when I returned the baby and ticki-
nawgun had disappeared."
"Miserable woman!" said the chief, "you are not
worthy to be called wife. I will go in search of my boy
and if I fail to find him by nightfall, I will leave you,
never more to return."
In vain did the old man follow every trail, he could
find no trace of the missing child; and thenceforth Me-
nonaqua was left to shift for herself. She was lucky to get
off with her life, her husband was so incensed.
Many years passed and through brooding over her mis-
fortune, Menonaqua grew thin and wrinkled. Food be-
coming scarce in her neighborhood, she finally decided to
cross the valley and make her home near that of old
Muck-kuk-kee-qua.
One day her son, who had grown to be a man, told
the toad woman, whom he thought was his mother, that
he had seen a strange squaw near by, and she looked so
pitiful that he wanted to go and give her something to
eat.
"Oh, don't have anything to do with that old Zee-go-
wish" (wrinkled face), said Muck-kuk-kee-qua.
THE CROOKED TREE 59
"Why do you hate her, mother?"
"I don't hate her, but she's a busybody."
"Please give her to eat for my sake?"
After a number of entreaties the toad woman took the
brisket of a deer and going towards the newcomer's hut
called from afar : "Zee-go-wish ! Zee-go-wish !"
The other answered faintly, "What is it?"
"Seeing we endure your presence, take this and be
thankful for it. Now I hope you'll be satisfied !" ex-
claimed Muck-kuk-kee-qua, turning on her heel.
"Me-quach" (thank you), said the other meekly.
While returning from a successful hunt loaded with
deer meat a few days later, the young hunter passed close
to the hut of the strange woman, and looking in at the
door, saw a face at once so pathetic, sweet and affection-
ate that irresistibly he felt himself drawn toward it. Look-
ing up, Menonaqua recognized her long lost son and ex-
claimed : "Oh, my dear boy, come in and do not shun me,
for I am your mother."
"How can that be?" asked the young man, "Muck-kuk-
kee-qua claims that I belong to her."
Then Menonaqua told him the story of his being
stolen when a child and how his father, the great chief,
was so angry that he left her forever on account of it.
"That you may know that I am telling the truth," she
said, "ask the toad woman to show you the tickinawgun
in which she carried you when a babe. Then ask her to
show you the tickinawguns of her other children. You
will see how much more beautiful and nicer yours is,
60 THE CROOKED TREE
which will prove to you that you are the son of a chief
and not descended from a toad woman."
"I believe you, mother," said the boy. "Take this
venison and I will go and question old Muck-kuk-kee-
qua."
When he arrived home he said to the toad woman,
"See here, mother, I have never seen the tickinawgun in
which you carried me when I was little. Won't you
please show it to me?"
"Why are you getting so inquisitive all at once?" she
asked in wonderment.
"Oh, I just happened to think that I would like to
look at it."
"I'll bet you've been to see that old Zee-go-wish. I'll
show you the cradle, but don't go near that 'old wrinkled
face,' again on peril of your life." Then she hobbled away
and presently from among a pile of furs and skins she
produced the prettiest tickinawgun he had ever seen, em-
broidered with quills and decorated with beautiful orna-
ments.
"There," she said, "is what I carried you in when
you were a child."
After admiring it he said, "Now will you please let
me see the ones you carried my brothers in?"
"This is surely the work of that mischievous old hag,"
said the toad woman, but being afraid to arouse the
suspicions of the young man, she again hobbled away to
get the other cradles. Soon she appeared with two dirty
and common looking affairs which she said were the
THE CROOKED TREE 61
tickinawguns in which his brothers had been carried.
"How is it?" he asked, "that mine is so pretty and
theirs so dirty and homely?"
"My, but you are impudent to be asking so many ques-
tions. But you were better looking, that's the reason."
"Yes, and that's what always has puzzled me, mother.
Why are my little brothers all so black, small and ugly,
while I am so different?"
"I guess 'old wrinkled face' has put it into your head
to ask me all these questions, thinking to embarrass me;
but I am used to such tricks. I will answer your ques-
tions truthfully and prove that I am not trying to deceive
you. When your brothers were born, the weather was
cold, dark and dreary; and that's why they are small and
inferior looking. But when you were born, the sun was
shining brightly; the day was warm and cheerful. For
them I used the old tickinawguns, but for you I had to
have something better."
"Very well, mother," said the young man, "now I am
satisfied. I killed a big deer at the end of the path yonder,
but was so tired that I could not bring it home with me.
I wish that you would go and get it."
"I'll do so," said Muck-kuk-kee-qua, "but don't you
dare play any tricks on me. If you do, I'll make you and
Zee-go-wish pay dearly for your fun.
After she was far out of his sight, he caught all his
little brothers, of whom there were eighteen or twenty,
and stringing them on a pole, hung them high up in the
crotch of a tree in front of the wigwam. Then going and
62
THE CROOKED TREE
getting his real mother he set out with her in search of
his father.
When Muck-kuk-kee-qua returned towards evening all
tired out from her fruitless quest of the deer and saw
what had been done, she was wild with rage. She un-
strung her children, but their backs were so bent and
their hips so twisted that all they could do was to hop
around and turn somersaults. She tried to take them
with her in pursuit of Menonaqua and her son, but could
make no progress — she, too, had been turned into a toad
and could only hope and jump around in the dirt, like
her children.
The young hunter who escaped with his mother soon
succeeded in locating his father, the great chief. He re-
conciled his parents, who again lived together, but no
more tickinawguns were left hanging on the trees.
WHY THE PINE TREES WEEP
Fifteen or twenty years ago there lived at Manistique,
Michigan, a full blooded Indian, by the name of "Corn-
stalk," who was considerably past one hundred years of
age. He was on Mackinac Island during the War of
1812 and could tell many thrilling and interesting stories.
He was a unique character on the streets of the northern
Michigan city, and possessed wonderful vitality for one
of his advanced age.
In his younger days Cornstalk had an experience which
tried his nerves. One bitter cold day in the winter time
a tree fell on his leg, pinning him to the ground. No help
was near. He couldn't move, and he knew if he remained
in that position long he would freeze to death ; so he
reached in his pocket for his knife and cut off his leg,
and then crept home on his hands and knees.
Cornstalk related the following quaint but pretty
legend, explaining why drops of water, like rain, some-
times fall from pine trees:
Mongo, according to Cornstalk, was the first man that
inhabited the earth. He came from the land of the ris-
ing sun and made his home along the streams of the north
and the shores of the Great Lakes. Although fish and
game were plentiful, Mongo was dissatisfied and lone-
some, for he had no companion to share his joys. The
63
64 THE CROOKED TREE
Great Spirit saw that his heart was sad, and one night
as Mongo sat in front of his wigwam warming himself
by a huge camp fire, he was suddenly startled by a bright
light in the heavens; and on looking up saw a meteor
swiftly descend to the earth, leaving a train of flames in
its wake. The bright ball fell only a short distance from
where he was seated and as it fell it burst into many
pieces and a beautiful woman stood before him.
Mongo was frightened and would have fled, but the
woman held out her hand and beckoned him to come.
Mongo's fear suddenly left him and a new, strange
passion — that of love — took its place and filled his soul.
He led Wasaqua — which name means the new born light
— to his wigwam on the banks of the "roaring Escanaba,"
where for many moons they lived together happily and
several children were born to them to bless their union.
But one day Mongo became sick and although Wasaqua
nursed him with all a woman's tender care, he sank
rapidly and ere many days he died.
Wasaqua was inconsolable. She lay upon Mongo's
grave and wept and dampened the earth with her tears.
She refused food and would not be comforted. The birds
and beasts brought her many tender morsels, but she put
them aside.
At night bears and wolves lay down by her side to keep
her warm ; but her grief kept increasing until nature could
stand it no longer and she fell into the sleep that knows
no waking. She was laid in the grave by the side of her
husband at the end of the day; and the whippoorwill's
A SYLVAN PATH AT CHARLEVOIX
THE CROOKED TREE 65
voice was hushed and the howl of the wolf echoed not
through the forest, so great was the grief of all living
creatures.
But before the sun shone upon that grave again, a great
pine, like a solitary, watchful sentinel, stood at the head
of the mound where the first man and woman were re-
turned to earth "to mix forever with the elements."
The pine was the first of its kind among the monarchs
of the forest and night and day it wept and sang a sweet,
sad requiem o'er the lonely mound. And to this day the
pine trees weep and moan and sigh for the first born of
the earth.
It is a singular fact that pine trees easily gather mois-
ture which slides off the "needles" in the form of rain;
but the Indians think it is Wasaqua's tears which she shed
on the grave of Mongo.
RAPID TRANSIT IN EARLIER DAYS
"De Hinjum do funny trick," said Napoleon Tebo, as
we were paddling down a river one morning in late
autumn.
"Old Pere Tebo," as he was called — the last of the
coureur de bois of the north country — was a man of un-
usual hardihood, and his knowledge of hunting and trap-
ping and the early life of the woods was inexhaustible.
The above remark was in response to a request I had
made to tell me one of his many thrilling experiences, and
as he took his short clay pipe and proceeded to puff long
wreaths of smoke, I settled back comfortably to let the
canoe drift lazily with the current; for I knew I was
about to hear some choice bit from the Frenchman's rep-
ertoire.
Fond as I was of fishing, I would rather sit and listen
to Pere Tebo tell a story in his inimitable patois than to
haul in the gamiest black bass in the river.
With his dark, wrinkled, oval face drawn into innum-
erable contortions as he sat and related his tales he seemed
to me to be a worthy rival of Robinson Crusoe or King
Arthur's Knights of the Round Table.
"Dey can put medicine on dare skin," he continued,
"shoot fire out dare eyes an' run t'ru de woods like wil'
animal. Dey scare de dev out anyone dey meet."
66
THE CROOKED TREE 67
"Did you ever see one do such a thing?" I questioned,
by way of further drawing him out.
"I see him do it good many times, me. When I was
carry de mail on Shushwar an' Mackinac I take trip of
hover hundred miles on lil' piece bark in jus' t'ree, four
hour. By Gee Pwell, we go like lightning. Din't I never
tole you dat, Misseu ?"
"No, Pere, I never heard a thing about it."
"Well, I'm sprise. I t'ot heverybody knowed dat. You
see, I have no take long trip wid dog and tranneau. I
go on Cheboygan, pas' Hinjun River, clear on de Gran'
Traverse bay. De snow was ver' deep an' de road ver'
bad. But eet makes no difference, de mail she has to go so
long as ol' Pere Tebo ees able to carry heem.
"We'en I come on Gran' Traverse bay I was 'bout
five hour late an' all tire out. I wish for rest, but my
wife was seek w'en I leave him on Petite Traverse an' I'm
een great hurry for get back. After I change de mail bag
de ol' chief of de village come an' ask me for go on his
wigwam an' have bowl hot corn soup. He say, 'You need
dis to brace you up before you go back.' My, eet was
taste bon — de Hinjun know how to make de corn soup.
But eet take Frenchwoman to make de pea soup, ees dat
not right, Misseu?"
I nodded assent, as Pere Tebo relit his pipe, took two
or three puffs and continued:
"Den de chief say I better lay down for lil' res'. Eet
ees long trip an' I'm liable for exhaus'. De dog also ees
een no shape to travel so far. I feel so tired I say, Til
68 THE CROOKED TREE
lay down li' while but not long — I'm anxious for get
home.'
"I was hardly stretch out on de fur, we'en all at once
dare was big light. I see my house on Petite Traverse an'
my wife on hees bed so seek he can't stan' up. 'Nap,' he
says; 'Oh, Nap, come an' help me — I'm goin' die.'
"I jumpedvon my feet an' tell de chief I'm goin' hetch
up my dog an' start for home.
" 'No,' he says, 'wait teel morning.'
"I tole him my wife was seek an' I have to come right
off. Maybe I get dere too late an' he be dead. Sacre !
" 'Too bad,' the chief say. 'I help you go quick.'
"Den he take some dat maudit grease an' he rub it all
hover my body. Den he put some on lil' piece of birch
bark an' tole me to sit down on de bark.
"Den he pass his ban' hover my head an' say something
in Hinjun. I no understan' but all at once I feel myself
sailing 'long de groun' fas'er dan lightning. We pass by
house an' wigwam so swif eet look like long street. I
try for holler or make noise to attrack some of my frien's
as we go by, but my face act like she have lockjaw. I
can't hopen my mout' even for say bon jour. Sacre, but
we was fly !
"I see spark fly 'round an' look under me an' de bark
seem all on fire but she no burn. Wen I look 'roun' I
see long track of flame follow behin'.
"I was feel awful scare an' begin to wish I was back on
Gran' Traverse bay; we'en all at once I see nudder big
light which show rny house on Petite Traverse. I see my
t>!
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a "~
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h S
Q ^
Z £
O u
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z 5
z t-1
S =
c/3 re
THE CROOKED TREE 69
wife seek on de bed wid his ban' stretch out toward me
an' holler: 'Oh, Nap, I wish you be here now. Hurry,
back, fas' you can, I'm so seek I got to have de physich.
Can't you hear me, Nap? Don't stay on de Hinjun house
long de road, but come to me quick as de tranneau will
carry you !'
"Dat give me couragement an' I say, 'All right, Angel-
ique, wait lil' while an' Napoleon will be on deck.'
"De bark seem to understan', too, an' give jump an'
go fas'er dan ever.
"My heart come up into my mout' an' I say to my-
self: 'If I can only get home before my wife die, I'll be
happy man ;' so I hang on wid all my might an' say to de
bark; 'Go fas' you like — I'll be scare no more.'
"Before we go far I see lights an' I know I'm near
home. De piece of bark sail 'long de track jus' like she
be alive — pas' lake, hill an' river an' never make mistake
nor take wrong path. Before I know it she sail right up
to de door on Petite Traverse an' stop.
"I jump out an' run on de house an' go to the bed-
room an' my wife set up an' say, 'Oh, Napoleon, I'm so
glad you come. I have bad dream. How you get here so
quick? I t'ot you mus' be far 'way on Gran' Traverse.
I'm awful seek an' I t'ot I die before I ever see you
again.'
"I look at de clock an' eet was only two een de morn-
ing. I lef Gran' Traverse after 'leven o'clock dat evening
so I make de trip een about t'ree hours — over sixty mile.
"I tole Angelique 'bout de chief an' de lil' piece of bark,
70 THE CROOKED TREE
an' she say, 'No one can do dat, Napoleon. You mus' be
mistake.'
"I say, 'No, ma chere, dare ees no mistake, I go out
an' bring you de bark.'
" 'All right, Nap,' he say, 'bring de bark, I like to
know how he Hinjun do dat trick.'
"So I go out for get de piece of bark, but sacre! she
disappear. Nobody will believe me now. I feel awful
so r ray.
"I go back an' tell my wife, 'De bark ees gone.'
" 'I guess you must been drunk,' she say. 'If eet was
true story de bark would be dare.'
" 'Now I remember it,' I say. 'De Hinjun chief w'en
he rub on de medicine he talk to de bark. I din't know
what he say den. Now I know. He tole it to make re-
turn trip — dat's why she's disappear."
> 5
2 5
3 *
o s
AN INDIAN LAWSUIT
A very unusual thing once occurred at L'Arbre Croche.
An Indian by the name of Duny-age-ee, in a fit of jeal-
ous rage, killed his cousin, a beautiful maiden of sixteen
summers, near the outskirts of the village. In the dusk of
evening he had followed her down a secluded pathway,
whither she had gone in search of some pitchwood, with
which to start a fire. When she discovered that she was
being followed, she started to run, but Duny-age-ee was
close upon her, and by his superiority as a runner soon
reached her side. They were just entering a little gully,
where all was dark and quiet, when the man seized the
maiden by the arm and demanded that she go with him
and not resist, or he would kill her. But the young girl
was brave and supple, and not to be easily intimidated nor
coerced. Proudly raising her head, she drew her hunting
knife and defiantly faced her enemy. With a sneer, he
wrenched it from her hand and threw her to the ground.
Her struggle was long and heroic, but at last the superior
strength of the man asserted itself and when the stars and
moon peered through the trees they beheld her lifeless
body lying prone and bleeding in the bottom of the gully.
A dark form scurried down the pathway, looking neither
to the left nor to the right, and an owl hooted dismally
7i
72 THE CROOKED TREE
from a nearby tree. The deed was committed in the dark-
ness of the night and the criminal escaped in the recesses
of the forest.
The Indians were sufficiently civilized at this time to
fully realize the enormity of the act, and the following
day the entire village was aroused to a high pitch of ex-
citement. A search was instituted, the fleetest men of the
tribe were sent out in all directions, and finally Duny-
age-ee was captured. The friends of the murdered girl
were then consulted and expressed a desire that he be
punished as the white people punish their criminals. Not
having any methods in their native customs of disposing
of such cases, except by barbaric forms, the head men
went for advice to Colonel Boyd, a white-haired veteran
of the war of the American Revolution, who resided at
Mackinac Island, and who had much influence among
them. After carefully considering the matter, Mr. Boyd
advised them to mete out to the prisoner whatever pun-
ishment they found he deserved by some proceeding of
their own. Whatever they would do, he said would be
all right.
After much consultation, the chiefs decided to hold a
lawsuit. So a large wigwam for the occasion was built
on the hill at L'Arbre Croche, where all the relatives of
the murderer and his victim, their friends and a number
of onlookers, assembled one fine summer's day, in an en-
deavor to satisfy the ends of justice and firmly establish
the social order, from the aboriginal point of view.
THE CROOKED TREE 73
On either side of the tent were long benches, the
brothers and sisters and near relatives of Duny-age-ee sit-
ting on one side, and those of the murdered girl facing
them on the other; the oldest member of the respective
families being seated at the head, and so on down to the
foot according to their age.
At the head of the wigwam, on an elevated platform,
sat A-pock-o-ze-gun, the great chief of the Ottawas, his
person ornamented with eagle feathers, silver medals and
beads and wearing his beautifully embroidered blanket, as
was customary at great events. In the center of the room
were great piles of furs, blankets, tobacco, guns, ammuni-
tion, etc. ; outside were horses, cattle, in fact, everything
that the Indians considered wealth, brought there by the
relatives of Duny-age-ee to buy their kinsman's liberty.
When the time for the trial arrived, Chief A-pock-o-ze-
gun arose and made a short, eloquent speech in his native
tongue. He said that they were not gathered to avenge
the murdered girl, as their priest taught them that God,
the Great Spirit, would do that; but they were there for
the purpose of making peace between the estranged kins-
men. He then produced a calumet, "long pipe," which
had been handed him by one of the medicine men present,
and, filling it with tobacco, lit it by the means of flint and
steel. After he had taken a long puff he presented it to
the first of Duny-age-ee's relatives (his father), who took
it and smoked as a token of peace.
The chief exclaimed, "Me-sa-gwa-yuck," which means
74 THE CROOKED TREE
"that's right," and passed it on to the next, who likewise
took a puff, and so on, to the end of the row ; no one re-
fusing the pipe of peace.
The chief then said, "These relatives of the prisoner,
you see, desire peace and not bloodshed. They are sorry
for what has been done, and have brought all these goods,
which they offer to the family of the dead girl, so that they
will have compassion and not ask for revenge."
He then passed the pipe to the first one on the other
side, the oldest sister of Duny-age-ee's victim. After some
hesitation, she took the proffered pipe and smoked. Three
other sisters followed her example, also her three oldest
brothers, and the pipe was handed to the eighth and last
relative, the departed girl's favorite brother, a young man
who sat with flashing eyes at the end of the row.
Shaking his head he said, "Kaw" (no), and refused to
smoke.
The chief looked downcast and muttered, "Sun ah gut"
(too bad), and taking the pipe, carefully emptied it of all
its contents. Then filling and lighting it as before, he
again handed it to the young man.
"Kaw! kaw!" repeated the latter, indignantly.
"Gitchi sun ah gut!" (much too bad), exclaimed the
chief.
The young man jumped to his feet and pointing to the
prisoner, threatened him with his life. Turning to his
brothers and sisters, he rebuked them fiercely, saying that
for the few paltry articles that were offered them they were
willing to sacrifice their relative, but as for him, he
THE CROOKED TREE 75
would not rest until he had killed the villain and avenged
his sister.
The friends of Duny-age-ee advised him to flee at once,
lest the brother kill him, and some of them helped him to
escape. He was taken through the forest to the lake,
placed in a canoe and told to paddle far, far from L'Arbre
Croche. He remained away for many years and did not
return until the man who had sworn the vendetta was
dead.
In some respects the lawsuit showed wisdom and con-
siderable judicial ability, but was indecisive, because the
unforeseen had happened — the jury failed to agree.
HOW THE INDIANS SELECTED A
PICTURE FOR THE ALTAR
When the second church was erected at L'Arbre
Croche, the missionary who had the matter in hand re-
quested the Indians to provide suitable decorations for the
altar. They promised to furnish what was necessary, and
the good priest, who had other missions to visit, departed
joyously on the rounds of his journey. As winter was ap-
proaching, the Indians were soon on their way to the
south. There they met a French trader who had in his
possession, among other articles for sale, a beautiful oil
painting, depicting a courtier of the reign of Queen Anne
presenting a rose to his lady love, in true knightly fashion.
The picture at once took the fancy of a young Indian,
who suggested to his people that they procure it to hang
in their beloved church. His advice proved acceptable to
the others, and the following spring found the painting
hanging over the center of the altar, which was profusely
decorated with paper flowers of all colors and varieties
and many other gewgaws and trinkets.
In due course of time the missionary visited his other
churches and returned to L'Arbre Croche. He was royally
welcomed by the people, who informed him that every-
thing was prepared to begin services whenever he should
76
CATHOLIC CHURCH AT MIDDLE
VILLAGE
THE CROOKED TREE 77
be ready. But upon entering the little church he was
horrified to see what had been done; for the lady in the
picture, according to the artist's fancy, was attired in the
extreme fashion of her day, with low cut dress and short
sleeves. Imagine, if you can, such a picture in a house of
worship! The reverend father stood for some time, alter-
nately overcome by astonishment, vexation and chagrin,
then calling some of the leading Indians to one side, told
them he was very sorry, but the picture they had pro-
cured was not suitable for a church; that it was a most
beautiful painting and a credit to their foresight and
generosity, but a secular representation of such a char-
acter could not be allowed in the house of God.
Greatly disappointed, the Indians withdrew, called all
the people together, told them what had been said, and a
long and earnest consultation was held.
Finally a spokesman was chosen, who was sent to the
priest to tell him that in spite of his objections the picture
was very pleasing to them; they were unable to see any
harm in it or anything wrong, and should it be removed,
after all the trouble and pains they had taken to secure
it, they would consider it an unfriendly act; and many
members of his congregation, it was feared, would be so
displeased that they might remain away from the church
altogether.
The Indians waited in a body, a short distance away,
for his reply.
Then the forgiving and kind father, realizing the true
situation and the innocent intentions of his as yet un-
78 THE CROOKED TREE
civilized children, sent word that the picture would not
be taken down, and for them to all come in and attend
Mass. They gladly accepted the invitation, and the pic-
ture, which was a Murillo, remained where the Indians
had placed it for many years.
LEGEND OF THE MOTCHI MANITOU
The Indians of L'Arbre Croche were firm believers in
manitous, or spirits. All the good things they attributed
to the Gitchi Manitou (Great Spirit) ; and the bad things
to the Motchi Manitous (Bad Spirits), there being very
many of the latter.
The Motchi Manitou, most dreaded in these parts, in-
habited the waters of Little Traverse Bay, and many
frightful stories have been related regarding this monster.
Often when great storms raged at sea, sacrifices were
made to him to appease his anger, for the Indians imagined
he was the one that caused the disturbance. A dog would
be killed and thrown into the lake, with the words, "Here
is something for you, O Manitou; now be still and stop
troubling the water."
According to the legend, this manitou was once a hu-
man being like all the other inhabitants of the village; in
fact, he was the son of a great hunter named Ma-gee-we-
non, and was his father's joy and pride. With the great-
est delight the old warrior spent most of his time teach-
ing his boy to shoot the arrow and throw the spear, and
making him acquainted with all the knowledge necessary
for an Indian brave's education. But in spite of all that
was done to make the young man a great chief, he early
79
8o THE CROOKED TREE
evinced traits of a diabolical character. Although an
adept in the use of his weapons, it became apparent that
he was possessed of an evil spirit. He grew to large and
ungainly proportions and became in truth a human mon-
strosity. He delighted in torturing people and did all sorts
of things to annoy those about him. One day, highly in-
censed over his ill luck at fishing, he sought the feeding
grounds of a dreaded sea-serpent, which he captured and
turned loose in the village, where the enraged reptile
killed many of the inhabitants and committed all sorts of
depredations.
At this period the tribe was ruled over by a remarkable
chieftain who was said to possess supernatural powers.
The Great Spirit had blessed him with an extremely
beautiful daughter whose hand was sought by all the
young braves of the surrounding country, among whom
was Neoma, considered the best warrior and hunter in
the tribe.
Wa-wass-ko-na (flower), the chief's daughter, returned
the young man's affections, but Neoma had a rival in the
powerful Motchi Manitou, and strange to say, the chief
wished his daughter to marry the latter, hoping thereby to
gain more power and influence and become greater than
any of his predecessors.
Neoma asked the chief for his daughter's hand, but
was, of course, rejected, and Wa-wass-ko-na was impris-
oned in a separate wigwam, with guards placed at the en-
trance, so that the lovers might not elope. But "love
laughs at locksmiths," and one dark night Neoma stole
THE CROOKED TREE 81
into his sweetheart's prison, first drugging the guards with
a potion he had obtained from an old woman who re-
sided in the outskirts of the village. Wa-wass-ko-na was
only too glad to regain her freedom and join her faithful
lover. They hastily embarked in a canoe which Neoma
had provided for the occasion, and fled to an island far
out in Lake Michigan (Manitou Island), where they
landed, pitched their tent, and for a time lived happily
together.
But Motchi Manitou soon learned their whereabouts,
and one day when Neoma was away in quest of game,
hied himself to his wigwam and abducted his bride, whom
he carried to his abode — a desolate cave near the shore —
where he imprisoned her.
Neoma returned home, and missing his wife, spent
many weary hours of anguish, but at last surmised the
cause of her disappearance. He immediately started in
pursuit of Motchi Manitou, but arrived at the latter's
rendezvous too late to rescue Wa-wass-ko-na and was
only met by the jeers and mocking laughter of the Motchi
Manitou. With a heavy heart he lingered about the
prison, contriving many plans by which he might rescue
his wife, but failed in all his attempts.
Meanwhile Wa-wass-ko-na became heart-broken and
despondent and shed many tears. She rapidly failed in
health until she was only a mere skeleton of her former
self, and in a short time she crossed "the dark river of
death."
Neoma was overwhelmed with grief, and disheartened,
82 THE CROOKED TREE
he climbed "the crooked tree," which was not far from
the Motchi Manitou's cave, and with a weird, plaintive
death-song threw himself to the beach, striking in the
waters of Lake Michigan, which caught up the sad air
and have ever murmured the lament of the departed war-
rior.
At last the great chieftain, Neoma's father, passed
away and the people saw that in order to insure their
safety, they must destroy the Motchi Manitou. A great
council was held and it was decided that all the warriors
should turn out en masse, to get him, dead or alive. But
of no avail. He seemed to possess a charmed life. He
never could be seen, but each morning the inhabitants of
L'Arbre Croche would awaken to find new mischief or
depredations.
Finally, after many days of searching, he was discov-
ered, nestled among the sand dunes on the shore, fast
asleep. Without losing any time the bravest of the people
crept up cautiously and deftly bound him with basswood
bark, so that when he awoke he was helpless. His cap-
tors then placed him in a canoe and, taking him far out
into the bay, tied huge stones to his neck and threw him
overboard. As he reached the water, by his exertions to
get loose, he caused such a sea that the canoe was upset
and all its occupants drowned.
Even to the present day, when great tempests rage on
Lake Michigan, the older Indians say: "It's Motchi
Manitou trying to get out of the water."
THE TREATY PAYMENT
In accordance with the terms of several treaties, the
government made a number of annual payments to the
Indians of L'Arbre Croche. Most of these payments were
in merchandise, but the Indians also received large
amounts of money, and some time previous to the arrival
of the government agent, traders from all parts of the
upper lake region would assemble with small stocks of
goods to traffic with the natives.
Glancing for a moment at the scene of one of these
government treaty payments, we see a vast and varied
concourse of people. Along the shore as far as the eye
can reach are numerous small tents, huddled together as
close as it is convenient to pitch them — the temporary
abode of those Indians coming from a distance. Large
crowds of Ottawas, painted and bedecked with feathers
and wearing the native costumes, stand upon every corner,
while many whites intermingle with their dusky brethren
and dart hither and thither in apparent confusion. From
the narrow wharf near the center of the village we push
our way along with the rabble, for such it may be called,
and soon find themselves in front of the old government
building at the foot of the bluff, where we are informed
the payments will begin at i o'clock sharp. We wait, for
83
84 THE CROOKED TREE
the time is near at hand, and presently the doors of the
old building are thrown open and a rush is made by the
Indians to get inside, each anxious to receive his annuity
first. Door tenders, however, keep them back and an in-
terpreter gives the information that only one chief with
his band is to come in at a time, the one with the largest
following to be first, and so on.
The first chief, or headman, with about 100 followers,
enters and is marched up to the farther end of the large
room, where he is obliged to certify before the Indian
agent that all the persons with him are lawful members
of his band. The headman then signs his name, or makes
his mark, to the effect that he has received the amount
due him from the great white father.
This ceremony over, the Indians repair to a long coun-
ter on one side of the room where numerous clerks are
stationed to wait upon them. Each Indian and squaw is
given so many blankets, a number of yards of different
kinds of cloth, cooking utensils, provisions, etc., and a
number of farm implements to promote agriculture
amongst them; and in addition to this the men are each
allowed a quantity of tobacco. Lastly comes the specie
payment. This is done under the direct supervision of
the Indian agent, and the Indians hold their blankets to
catch the glittering gold and silver. After the payment
the Indians withdraw to the street with smiles of satis-
faction.
And now comes the turn of the traders, who, in many
cases, soon have the Indians under the control of their
PRINCESS MARGARET BOYD
Sister of Chief Blackbird and bene-
factress of her race.
THE CROOKED TREE 85
fire water, and a system of cheating, thievery and knavery
prevails which can be perpetrated only upon unsophisti-
cated savages.
Through curiosity we enter one of the little stores near
at hand to see the Indians do their trading. One, who
has received his annuity, is passing along when his squaw
spies a bright colored shawl and immediately she wishes
to purchase it. They come in and point to the shawl,
and the proprietor, who is perfectly familiar with their
mode of shopping, takes it down and by his energetic talk
and display of goods, induces them to purchase it and
numerous other articles besides. When their selections
are made, the Indian takes his blanket from his shoulders,
unties the corners and spreads his money out upon the
counter. He is unable to count it, so the trader "rakes in"
what he deems sufficient pay for his goods, with no stint
as to profit, and the Indian ties up the rest and with his
squaw goes out to visit some other store.
Sometimes several days were consumed in the payment
of the different bands, after which the traders and Indians
packed up and left for their respective homes — not a
vestige remaining of the erstwhile populous village along
the shore.
The Indians of L'Arbre Croche have always believed
that considerable money still remained to their credit in
Washington. No doubt they never received all that the
government promised or intended that they should. In
some cases dishonest agents were probably the cause. It
is related that one agent, who was sent to the Indians
86 THE CROOKED TREE
with thirty thousand dollars for specie payments, secured
the signatures of the headmen and then disbursed only
ten thousand.
So, during the administration of Grover Cleveland, an
Indian by the name of Shawn succeeded in collecting
enough money by subscription to take himself and a num-
ber of companions to Washington to look into the matter
and see if they could not collect what they claimed was
still due in the way of interest and unpaid treaty money.
They did not succeed in their enterprise, but were well
received and royally entertained at the capital. They
stayed until their money was all gone and finally a col-
lection had to be taken up to get them back home.
When they returned to L'Arbre Croche a great feast
was being held at which Shawn related his experience.
THE GREAT FEAST OF THE
OTTAWAS
The great feast of the Ottawa Indians at L'Arbre
Croche during the days of its final glory was called Tu-
san-wung, which annually took place on the eve of All
Saints' day. It was the outgrowth of a barbarous custom
the wild Indians had for remembering their dead, mixed
with some of the civilized forms of more modern times.
When the early missionaries first came to this country
they saw the futility of trying to induce the Indians to at
once give up their wild demonstration of grief over their
departed people, so a sort of compromise was made by
uniting it with the church's celebration of All Saints' day,
in French, Tout Saints (hence the Indian term Tu-san-
wung), at which the participants continued in a measure
some of their strange and superstitious ceremonies, one
being that of "Shooting the Devil" and another "Feeding
the Dead."
When the repast was about half over, all present would
repair to some high eminence and build a fire, around
which they would dance and shout at the top of their
voices; occasionally the men would go to the edge of the
hill and shoot volleys up into the air, with the words,
"amo awda," — "let us drive him away," referring to the
87
88 THE CROOKED TREE
evil spirit. After the atmosphere was thought to be
cleared, the natives would go back and finish their feast.
Those who gave it invited, besides others, one person for
each dead relative they had. These especially favored ones
were supposed to personify the departed relatives, and the
more they ate the better were the host and hostess pleased.
Food was also placed on the graves, and if in a few days
it had disappeared, it was a token that the dead were
pleased and had eaten it; if it still remained at the end
of a certain period, it was said that the spirits were angry
and another feast would have to be given to satisfy them.
The one who found a bean or a small coin that was pre-
viously placed in cookies that were passed at the table,
would be the one to give the next feast.
It was near the close of one of these feasts when the
weird ceremonies attending the "shooting of the devil"
and the "feeding of the dead" had been performed, that
Shawn, the Indian who had been to Washington, was in-
vited to address the assembled guests and tell them about
his wonderful trip. He responded in English as follows :
"We come on Washington. Beeg crowd. Band play.
Musick. March. Go to hotel. Have ice cream, cake, pie,
good nice eating. Bimeby go on White House. Knock.
Mr. Washington come to door. When he see us he say,
'Beesy, come tomollow.'
"Tomollow we come again to White House. Knock.
Mr. Washington come to door. He say, 'Beesy, come to-
mollow.'
"Tomollow we come again to White House. Knock.
NEGONEE, 106 YEARS OLD
This aged woman walked from the
Indian village at Burt Lake, when it
was burned by order of the sheriff,
to Middle Village, where she soon
after died. The despoliation and dis-
persion of the Burt Lake Indians
forms one of the darkest pages of
American history and proves the utter
failure and weakness of the govern-
ment's Indian policy in the past.
THE CROOKED TREE 89
Mr. Washington say, 'Come in.' He say, 'What's mat-
ter?'
" 'Money.'
"Mr. Washington take down beeg book. Turn over.
Turn over. Turn over. Turn over. Bimeby he say,
'Sorry. Too bad. No money here for Injun.'
"I say. 'You take much land — you owe Injun money.'
"Mr. Washington say, 'I buy land, give money, got
receipt.'
" 'Mistake,' I say.
" 'No mistake,' say Mr. Washington. 'Let Injun hunt,
fish.'
" 'Land all gone. No more hunt. Can't catch 'em fish.'
" 'I tell you,' say Mr. Washington, 'be good Injun,
pray, go to church, don't bother white man, bimeby die,
go to heaven.'
"I reply, 'My friend, I'm 'fraid you make great mis-
take. White man can't get in heaven; how can Injun do
it ? Impossible.' "
Though Shawn did not accomplish much at Washing-
ton, his speech created considerable enthusiasm at home.
OUTWITTING A WHITE MAN
After the lands that were secured by the government
through treaties with the Indians were thrown open for
general settlement, many white people flocked to L'Arbre
Croche from all parts of the country. The Indians were
given first choice in selecting homesteads, and consequently
in most cases held the best pieces of land. These home-
steads were looked upon with envious eyes by the more
rapacious of the white settlers and became common prey
for the land sharks, who frequently secured the choicest
farms for little or no consideration.
The Indians, unused to property ownership by deed,
and not understanding the system of taxation inaugurated
by the whites, often neglected to pay their assessments,
and tax titles were thus easily obtained by unscrupulous
parties who would seize the property and eject the original
owners at the first opportunity. An Indian could not un-
derstand how a little piece of paper with his signature, or
more often only his mark upon it, could be so valuable as
to allow the one who held it to take away his home. All
the business transactions ever carried on among the natives
while they retained their tribal relations were made by
word of mouth; the Indian valued his word and would
keep it under all circumstances. A signature could mean
90
THE CROOKED TREE 91
little to him unless accompanied by a verbal promise. Ly-
ing was an unknown art among the red men. Not so with
the whites. The latter made many promises which they
failed to keep; as the Indians kept theirs, the advantage
was always on the other side. When they were compelled
to leave their property and were forcibly removed, they
looked upon the transaction as little better than simple
robbery.
By such actions on the part of the land sharks, the In-
dians were gradually pushed farther and farther towards
the interior of the country, but in time some of them
learned in a measure the ways of their white brothers,
and were therefore enabled occasionally to drive a bargain
whereby they secured something near what their farms or
lots were worth.
The Indian settlement was surveyed and platted into
a village by the government, and a certain prominent
white man secured one of the lots by the payment of a
very small sum of money. A number of years afterwards,
upon examination, by a prospective buyer, it was found
that the deed was faulty, and that it would be necessary
to have a certain male heir who lived in another town,
and his wife, sign it.
The white man therefore hired an interpreter to go
with him to the town where the heirs resided, to secure
their signatures. After considerable time in hunting him
up and locating him, the Indian, whose name was Chokun,
agreed that he and his wife would sign the deed for $25.
The white man tried to argue him into reducing the
92 THE CROOKED TREE
amount, but the Indian was obdurate, claiming that he
had suffered much at the hands of the whites, and he and
his wife wouldn't think of signing their names for any
less amount. He spoke very good English, it was found,
and made a grand plea for his people. At last the white
man said he would pay the sum demanded, and secretly
told his interpreter that he was glad to get off at that.
So Chokun sent for his wife, a very comely squaw, and
the party repaired to the office of a justice of the peace.
After the papers were made out, the white man told
Chokun to sign his name.
"Give me twenty-five dollars," said Chokun.
"Oh, certainly," replied the other, handing him the
money.
Chokun took the proffered pen, signed his name and
stepped aside.
"Now have your wife sign it," said the white man, all
smiles.
Chokun turned to his wife and a few words were
spoken by them in Indian. As the woman made no move •
to put down her name, the white man asked :
"What does she say?"
"My wife say he want twenty-five dollars, too," said
Chokun.
"Oh, no," exclaimed the white man, "you agreed to
both sign for that sum and you can't get any more out of
me."
The woman remained stationary.
TOM SHOMIN. "ARROW MAKER"
A Cross Village Indian, eighty years old.
THE CROOKED TREE 93
"My wife he want twenty-five dollars, too," repeated
Chokun.
"Come," said the white man; "you can't work that
kind of a game. Have your wife sign the deed and hurry
up."
There was silence for several moments.
"My wife he want twenty-five dollars, too," again re-
peated Chokun, firmly.
The white man was flushed with anger and paced the
floor nervously. No amount of argument could make the
Indians change their minds, so he finally opened his
pocketbook and gave Mrs. Chokun the required $25 and
forthwith she signed her name.
This is probably about one case in a thousand where an
Indian got the better of a bargain when dealing with a
white man.
THE FLIGHT OF "RISING SUN"
As far as historians have been able to ascertain, all
pagan Indians believed in the immortality of the soul.
The Algonquin tribes generally and the Ottawas in
particular thought that there was a broad, beautiful
prairie, lying at a great distance, abounding in the finest
game of all kinds where the warrior went after death to
feast, dance and revel in happiness forever and ever. The
road to this happy hunting ground, called Ke-wa-kun-ah,
"homeward road," or Che-ba-kun-ah, "ghost road," was
said to be so difficult of passage that no mortal could ever
hope to pass over it ; indeed it was only the bravest souls
even after death that ever reached the Indian's heaven;
the weakest, including women and children, falling by the
wayside. It was discovered and revealed to the people by
a great warrior, who, in a trance, traveled over the "road
of the dead," followed by his mother and sweetheart. Be-
ing assisted by kindly spirits, the former finally captured
him, and brought him back to the land of the living to tell
his wonderful story.
Long before the paleface had ventured upon the In-
dian's native land there dwelt upon the banks of Lake
Michigan, near the resort now called We-que-ton-sing, a
squaw upwards of four score years of age, who went by
94
THE CROOKED TREE 95
the name of No-ko-qua. Her husband, who was a great
chieftain in his day, had passed to the great beyond, but
he had left a son, who like himself, was the wonder and
pride of the whole tribe. He excelled in the chase; as a
runner he could not be beaten, and in battle he always
secured the most scalps. His name was Pe-tos-key, which
means "the rising sun." -The companions of Petoskey
had no chance to win any prizes when he entered the
lists; his arrow always flew the straightest; his eye could
see the farthest; and his strength was so great that he
could attack the most ferocious animals empty-handed and
come off victorious.
One night, after returning from a hunt in which he
had been unusually successful, Petoskey was suddenly
stricken with a strange malady, and before dawn he lay
unconscious upon his couch of skins. There was much
sorrow throughout the village and requiem songs and
laments could be heard in every wigwam. For many days
the chief remained in a comatose condition, his aged
mother, No-ko-qua, and also his sweetheart, Winona,
who was the most beautiful maiden among the Ottawas,
being constantly at his bedside, until they, too, from
sheer exhaustion, were compelled to lie down.
Suddenly they were awakened by a blood-curdling war-
whoop, which echoed loudly through the still night air.
No-ko-qua and Winona jumped to their feet, and as they
did so, beheld Petoskey arisen from his bed, arrayed in
all the paraphernalia of war, but before they could catch
hold of him he uttered another piercing cry and bounded
96 THE CROOKED TREE
out of the door. Thinking he had left his bed in a delir-
ium, they started in pursuit.
"Pe-tos-key! Pe-tos-key!" cried the women, but Pe-
toskey paid no attention to their entreaties, running only
the faster.
Then Winona, with girlish fickleness, gave up the chase
and returned to her father's wigwam; not so No-ko-qua,
whose mother-love was a surpassing virtue. With a dog-
gedness born of despair she clung to the trail, which
was doubly difficult to do because Petoskey no longer ran
upon the ground but a little distance up in the air.
Then she realized that she was upon the che-ba-kun-ah,
or "ghost road," but determined to continue her pursuit,
because she was satisfied that her son was still alive. All
the rest of that night she followed him as best she could,
surmounting the most annoying obstacles. Finally she
came to a broad river, gee-ba-ya ze-ba, "the river of
death," in which a large splashing tree indicated to all
departed spirits the place to cross. The river appeared like
a huge serpent, foreevr twisting and crawling. A little
distance away she saw a wigwam, and going thither she
knocked at the door. An old man made his appearance,
who in great surprise asked her what she wanted.
"You are on the road of the dead," said he; "why are
you wandering in this direction ?"
"Have you seen my son, Petoskey, the great warrior
and chieftain?" asked No-ko-qua.
"Yes," replied the old man, "he passed over the river
a short time ago. But I fear you cannot follow him. It
Photo by Folcy
CHIEF IGNATIUS PETOSKEY, AFTER WHOM THE CITY OF PETOSKEY
WAS NAMED, WITH HIS TWO SONS, LOUIS (left) AND ENOS (right) IN
ENTRANCE OF BAZ1LE PETOSKEY'S STORE 1878
THE CROOKED TREE 97
is a dangerous and difficult thing and you are sure to fall
in the water. I am stationed here by Gitchi Manitou to
brain all people who may pass this way, so they can for-
get their worldly troubles and forever enjoy themselves in
the Happy Hunting Grounds which lie at the end of the
road. But they must first register their entry into the
realm of death by tasting of the fruit of life which lies
yonder. Your son was unable to do this, so I did not re-
remove his brains ; he is not dead but travels in a trance."
Looking to the place indicated by the old man, No-
ko-qua saw a huge strawberry covered with tooth-marks
made by departed warriors. As the braves stooped over to
take a bite of the berry, the guardsman brained them with
a sharp, quick blow from his tomahawk, and the severed
organ was thrown into a mow-cock, or birch-bark box.
Without losing any time, No-ko-qua attempted to cross
the river by crawling along the tree. She had not pro-
ceeded far, however, until she slipped and fell into the
dark, angry waters. Calling for assistance, she again at-
tracted the old guardsman, who came and pulled her out.
Beneath her she noticed many minnows swimming about
in all directions. These, the guardsman assured her, were
the spirits of little children and those who struggled to
cross the river but could not do so and finally fell into
the water.
In response to her many entreaties the guardsman at
last assisted her across to the other shore, and again she
started on Petoskey's trail.
Before long she came to a steep mountain over which
98 THE CROOKED TREE
it was impossible to pass. In vain she searched for a
breach or opening of some sort so that she might make
her way to the other side, and was about to give up in
despair when she espied that terrible passageway, where
two pestles of prodigious size rise and fall alternately.
There is room for but a single person to enter and the
soul must dodge quickly, first under one and then under
the other, in order to pass in safety. Many get caught
and perish, especially the weak and aged, but No-ko-qua
after watching the proceedings for some time, boldly made
the attempt and succeeded in slipping unharmed under-
neath the pestles.
She then found herself in a most beautiful country.
There were all kinds of fruits in abundance and flowers
were blooming on every hand. The roadway of the dead
led on through this delightful country to a grand forest
in which songbirds of all kinds were flooding the air with
wonderful melodies.
No-ko-qua followed her son for two days more, and
on the third, just as the sun was sinking, she arrived at
the edge of a large clearing from which proceeded the
songs and laughter of a large multitude.
She had reached the Happy Hunting Grounds. See-
ing a little wigwam near by, she knocked at the door-
post and was admitted by a squaw as old as herself, who
said she, too, had followed a son under similar circum-
stances; and although he came every night to hunt and
dance and enjoy himself in the beautiful clearing she
could not capture him for he was really dead. She bade
THE CROOKED TREE 99
her guest remain with her a little while, when she
promised to point out Petoskey, for she had seen him the
night before.
They waited together outside the tent, and just as the
moon showed its silvery beams, an old man came and
seated himself in the center of the field and dark shadows
glided into the opening, dancing and shouting to the music
of his tom-tom. Deer, elk, buffalos and bears and all
kinds of game mingled with the happy warriors. Oc-
casionally one of the shades would cautiously approach
to the place where the old women were watching, and
pointing his finger at them would say, "Look at the live
people — how funny they are. Go on home and leave us
here in happiness. All the live people are foolish and we
don't want to be bothered with them any more." Then
laughing gayly would run away to again join in the sport
of his fellows.
One of the last to enter the field was a young brave
who did not seem to enjoy himself like the others, but
kept clasping his hands to his head and crying, "My head
is heavy! Oh, my head is so heavy!"
This, No-ko-qua recognized as her son, Petoskey, whose
distress was caused by his brains, which the old man sta-
tioned at the river of death had been unable to remove,
because he was not dead.
The women waited until he staggered toward them and
as he did so, they grasped him tightly and stuffed him into
a sack, which had been provided for the occasion, so that
he could not escape. Then taking him to the wigwam
ioo THE CROOKED TREE
they put him through a series of sweats, produced by hot
stones and sand, and the young man was soon brought
back to consciousness.
No-ko-qua and her son remained with their kind
hostess for some time after his resuscitation, watching the
festivities of the dead each night, but as they were unable
to share in their happiness, they soon began their perilous
journey back to the land of the living, where they arrived
in due time. They were received with open arms, and the
union of Petoskey and Winona was solemnized at a great
feast where the young hero related to a breathless multi-
tude his experience in the Happy Hunting Grounds.
The Ottawas of L'Arbre Croche still cherish many
superstitions based on this tradition. They regard the
strawberry with the greatest reverence, since the legend
says it is the fruit of life; and they never kill little min-
nows because their fathers taught that they were the
souls of departed children.
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THE GREAT FIGHT BETWEEN THE
CLANS
It is not generally understood why the missions were
practically abandoned for many years, but a reliable tradi-
tion informs us that the abandonment was due to a ter-
rible massacre, which took place at the most northern part
of L'Arbre Croche, now known as Cross Village.
A new church had been built there, and the Reverend
Father du Jaunay was planning an imposing ceremony on
the feast of All Saints' day. Accordingly a large concourse
of people gathered and the village was in gala attire ;
warriors bedecked with paint and feathers were present
from all parts of the country, promenading through the
little streets, or sitting in groups on the brow of the
bluff smoking their calumets and relating stories. The
clans of the Turtle, the Eagle and the Beaver were more
in evidence than others, and could be recognized by
the elaborate emblems they wore and by their proud and
haughty bearing.
The day before the priest arrived the village was filled
with eager people and the beach as far as the eye could
reach was literally covered with tents and wigwams. To-
wards evening many camp fires were lighted and the curl-
ing smoke bespoke the great feast on the morrow when
the beloved pale face Father would be present to tell them
101
102 THE CROOKED TREE
of a wonderful Redeemer who was said to love the In-
dian as much as the white man and who had died to save
all mankind. Foot races, target shooting and quash-go-na-
win (jumping) contests had been indulged in throughout
the day and the most weary of the athletes were prepar-
ing to retire for the night.
A maiden of the Turtle clan was walking along the
shore a short distance from her tent. A young brave,
wearing the totem of the Beaver, crept up cautiously be-
hind her. As she stooped to dip some water in her birchen
pail, he sprang forward and seized her, and attempted to
drag her toward the forest, holding one hand tightly over
her mouth. But he had overestimated his strength ; more-
over he was wild and excited from several draughts of
a peculiar beverage he had obtained from a trader, which
he called sko-da-wa-bo, "fire water." He staggered and
his foot slipped.
The maiden, with the agility of a tigress, sprang from
his grasp, and uttered the war-cry of the Turtles. Im-
mediately a dozen brawny forms were at her side. She
displayed her torn garments and pointed to the Beaver,
who was trying to escape in the bushes. They at once
swooped upon him, their tomahawks gleaming in the air.
Seeing his approaching doom, he, in turn, raised the war-
cry of his clan. A moment later his form lay stark and
bleeding on the ground, and his scalp-lock was handed to
the maiden whom he had attacked.
According to the information, it is a calm autumn
night; the moon is shining brightly overhead, and every-
THE CROOKED TREE 103
one is living in joyous expectation of the coming fete.
Suddenly two blood curdling war-whoops rend the air.
The people immediately jump to their feet and pande-
monium is let loose. Lamentations, shouts and wails be-
token the ire of the Beavers. There is no time for a coun-
cil, at which the judgment of the wiser men might
prevent further bloodshed; neither is there any precious
moment lost in war dances or other preparations. Instead,
the infuriated Beavers single out their new-made enemies,
and a hand-to-hand combat ensues with frightful results.
Here, a fallen brave writhes in agony upon the ground,
his skull sunken by the stone hatchet of his adversary who
wields his weapon with unerring aim; yonder, a young
mother weeps over the mangled form of her husband,
while a score of murdered bodies strew the ground in all
directions. A lad who tries to recover his father's be-
longings, after the latter has been slain, is seized by the
ankles and his head dashed against a tree; a frenzied
demon has severed the head of a victim from its body,
and grasping it by the hair, swings it several times above
his head, throwing it with terrific force against a project-
ing rock; the shouting and yelling are deafening and the
carnage continues until the soil is drenched with blood.
Finally the chieftain of the Eagles, who have had no part
in the affair, sides with the Turtles, and puts an end to
the bloody tragedy. Not, however, until the Beavers are
all but exterminated.
The morning sun rises bright and clear and reveals a
calamity appalling in its desolation and destruction.
104 THE CROOKED TREE
A little canoe is seen approaching in the distance, bear-
ing the aged missionary and his two Indian escorts. Ar-
riving upon the scene of the massacre, it is said, he raised
his hands on high and exclaimed: "The earth bleeds and
heaven weeps! Oh, what have my poor children done?
Never can I set foot in this place again. I have labored
zealously, but can do nothing."
What was to have been a wonderful Christian demon-
stration was thus transformed into a pitiful scene of sor-
row and distress. Packing up his few belongings, the good
Father du Jaunay left the country, nevermore to return.
The log structure he used at L'Arbre Croche, and
which answered the purposes of a church for many years,
at last passed into decay. Another more commodious
structure was then constructed, which in turn gave way
to another, to be occasionally visited by missionaries, but
the Indian population has dwindled until only a few re-
main.
LAST OF THE CHIEFS
Blackbird was the last hereditary chief of the Ottawas
of L'Arbre Croche. He and his sister, Margaret Boyd,
the latter known as the Indian princess, were both well
educated and did much for the advancement of their peo-
ple. Chief Blackbird wrote a short history of the Otta-
was and a grammar of their language; he also gave lec-
tures, and recited original compositions, which attracted
widespread attention. His sister, Margaret, once went to
Washington and was granted an audience by President
Garfield. Blackbird and his sister possessed more than
ordinary ability. They were kind and good to the poor,
and both deplored to the last the encroachment of the
whites.
Blackbird's predecessor was Ne-se-wa-quat, or Chief
Fork-in-the-Tree, whose father was acting chief at the
time the Ottawas gave up their tribal relations and be-
came citizens of the United States.
Chief Fork-in-the-Tree had a son who got into some
kind of trouble and as a result was sent to the Detroit
House of Correction, while his father was still living.
This greatly worried the old warrior, who lamented con-
tinually for his boy. One day he met an acquaintance
whom he asked for a bowl of tobacco, and having re-
105
io6 THE CROOKED TREE
ceived it, he commenced to tell how badly he felt for his
son in prison.
"Oh, don't worry for him," said his friend. "He's all
right where he is."
"But he must be very poorly fed and ill-treated," said
the old chief sorrowfully.
"Oh, not at all," replied the other. "On the contrary,
he has his meals brought to him regularly, has a good
place to sleep, and a steady job."
"Is that possible?" exclaimed Fork-in-the-Tree.
"Yes, sir," continued the other, "and besides that they
even give him a certain allowance of good tobacco
(Samaw)."
The old Indian laughed. "By golly!" he said. "Me
like to go there, too."
CHIEF BLACKBIRD
Who wrote an Ottawa grammar and
history of his people.
THE STRANGE CASE OF DR.
WEIKAMP
About the middle of the last century there arrived at
L'Arbre Croche a small Mackinaw sailboat carrying a
Catholic priest and a few brothers and sisters of the order
of St. Francis. The priest informed the villagers that he
came to make his home in that part of the country and
intended to establish a convent somewhere in the neigh-
borhood ; he had lately been at the head of a similar in-
stitution which he had founded in Chicago in conjunction
with a wealthy woman who came with him from Ger-
many, his native land ; but his building having been mys-
teriously set on fire and destroyed, he had decided to labor
among the Indians. After looking over the ground, he
purchased a tract of two thousand acres, located at a point
called Cross Village; and shortly afterwards he and his
followers began the construction of a large wooden edifice
thereafter known as the Cross Village Convent. Father
Weikamp was a tertiary Franciscan, or monk of the third
degree, and being unable to secure the necessary permis-
sion from his superiors, he acted on his own initiative in
this manner. The organization he established was en-
titled the Benevolent, Charitable and Religious Society of
St. Francis, in honor of his patron saint.
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io8 THE CROOKED TREE
Father Weikamp soon proved to be a very odd and
eccentric character, and besides a convent, hospital and
other buildings, he also had constructed a sepulchre which
he kept in readiness to receive his remains whenever the
time came for him to lay aside his earthly cares. This
sepulchre consisted of a deep cellar, well walled, covered
by a small building that stood perhaps six or eight feet
above the ground. The structure was located at some
distance from the convent, to the right, in the open field,
and was always kept securely locked. No one aside from
the tertiary and a few intimate friends knew exactly what
the sepulchre contained. There was known to be a casket
in the center of the cellar, surmounted by a skull and cross
bones, beside which the priest daily made three hours of
meditation ; and frequently he went to the gruesome place
to read books and papers or for his after dinner smoke,
of which he was said to be very fond.
Divers were the stories related of the good monk and
the secrets of his "private cellar," as some of the villagers
persisted in calling the sepulchre. Some claimed it was
filled with casks of choice wine, while others declared it
to be the rendezvous of the wealthy woman from Ger-
many.
Regardless of this gossip, Father Weikamp kept the
even tenor of his way, going on calls to the sick when
needed, and attending to his regular duties at the church.
For many years the society thrived, land was cleared, a
grist mill, saw mill and shops were erected, besides a
parochial school for Indian children. The brothers proved
REV. J. B. WEIKAMP
Who established the Cross Village Convent.
THE CROOKED TREE 109
excellent farmers and the crops and stock they raised made
the convent self-supporting.
All the years the colony was in existence Father Wei-
kamp could be seen each day going to the sepulchre, from
which he would usually return to the convent from three
to four hours later. If anyone called for him during
the hours of his meditation, his strict orders were that he
should not be disturbed. His visits to the sepulchre be-
came so regular and of such common occurrence that
finally they ceased to cause any comment.
As the monk advanced in years his meditations were
prolonged, and at last he called his associates about him
and gave them instructions regarding his burial, for he
now felt that he had not long to remain among them.
A few days later, while returning from a drive through
the country, his horse became frightened, and in the run-
away that ensued Father Weikamp received internal in-
juries from which he did not recover.
A friend who had long known him, upon hearing of
his serious illness, hastened to Cross Village from a dis-
tant town to be at his bedside, if possible, before disso-
lution should take place. The friend, however, arrived be-
lated; in fact he did not reach the convent until Father
Weikamp had been laid to rest in the sepulchre. But this
he did not know until later. He claims to have seen the
tertiary upon his arrival that night, alive and well, three
days after his death and once after his burial, according to
the records. Regarding the occurrence he tells a story al-
most beyond belief. Did we not know him to be a man
no THE CROOKED TREE
of sterling qualities and utmost reliability, we might doubt
his word. As it is, we can only marvel, and enter the in-
cident on the list of unexpected phenomena that baffles
the mind of man. Our informant's name we are not at
this time at liberty to disclose, but his remarkable story in
his own words is as follows:
"Father Weikamp and I had been, since our acquaint-
ance a few months after his arrival at Cross Village, on
very intimate terms. I felt considerable pride, I must
acknowledge, in knowing that I was one of the few in
whom he seemed to have real confidence. He often in-
vited me to the convent and even asked me upon several
occasions to accompany him to his sepulchre or under-
ground vault. I always gladly accepted these invitations,
partly at first, I will admit, from curiosity; but also on
account of genuine friendship. While in the little room
upon my last visit I remember distinctly Father Weikamp
telling me of his firm conviction and belief in a future
life. He was rather eloquent in his statements and I was
struck with his sincerity. We conversed at length upon the
subject, and as I was about to go, I suggested to him
that whichever one of us should die first would, if within
his power, manifest himself to the other in some man-
ner. He readily consented to this proposition and seemed
pleased with the idea.
"When I learned of his last illness I was at a distant
point on urgent business, but started immediately for his
bedside to see him once more if possible before he passed
THE CROOKED TREE in
away. After a long ride, I reached the convent late at
night and in order not to cause any undue disturbance, I
decided to hitch my horse temporarily while I went to the
door to find out whether I had arrived too late or was
yet in time to see my friend. I remembered that a little
distance beyond the convent, in the direction I was travel-
ing, there was a little sheltered arbor and hitching post
beside the roadway where I had sought refuge once be-
fore, and in going thither I glanced toward the sepulchre
which was now within my view. To my astonishment I
saw a light issuing therefrom. As soon as I reached the
arbor I hitched my horse hurriedly, and started across
lots towards the sepulchre, to see what was taking place
at that late hour. As I neared the little building, I could
distinctly hear Father Weikamp's voice alternately sing-
ing and praying. The door was flung wide open and look-
ing in I beheld him on his knees as I had seen him many
times before. I could not have been mistaken — I was too
well acquainted with that short, rotund figure, and full,
red face surmounted by a fringe of white. I, of course,
concluded that he had recovered from his illness and not
wishing to disturb him, quietly withdrew to the convent,
where I knocked at the door and was admitted by one of
his sisters of the society. I told her I had come hurriedly
from a distance to see Father Weikamp knowing that he
had been very ill ; but was glad to see that he had recov-
ered.
" 'Indeed,' said she, 'the good Father died several days
ii2 THE CROOKED TREE
ago and was laid to rest in his sepulchre yesterday.'
"'Impossible!' I exclaimed; 'I was just there and saw
him kneeling in front of his coffin as usual.'
" 'We will go and see if any strange thing has taken
place,' said the nun, who called another, and accompanied
by the two I returned to the sepulchre.
"When we arrived there all was dark; the tomb was
securely locked, with absolutely no signs of any living
thing within. To satisfy my curiosity the sister, who re-
membered me well as a friend of Father Weikamp, un-
locked the door and we entered with a lighted lantern.
All was still as death and everything in its proper place.
The lid of the coffin containing Father Weikamp's re-
mains was firmly fastened and appeared to have been
neither moved nor molested. We opened the casket, to
more thoroughly convince ourselves regarding the matter,
and beheld the familiar features of the dead tertiary,
whose body was in precisely the same position in which it
had been placed the day before by the members of the
Benevolent, Charitable and Religious Society of St.
Francis."
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LEGEND OF THE MOUNDS
A few miles north of L'Arbre Croche, beneath the
wide-spreading boughs of a large oak, are two mounds
whose history reveals a pathetic story of love and tragedy.
During the palmy days of the Ottawas of this region,
when their arrows brought the crimson blood spouting
forth from the fleet-footed deer and their war-whoops
sent terror to the hearts of the braves of all contemporary
tribes, Weosma, a noted warrior and hunter, whose aim
was perfect and whose foot was as light as a roe's, re-
sided with his aged mother in the village of a renowned
clan to the north.
Each young maiden of the neighborhood, it is said,
had fond hopes that sooner or later her charms would
attract the young man's attention, but he was heedless to
all such allurements, until one day the nymph of love
made her appearance and Weosma became a victim as
helpless as any ever was before.
His inamorata was Enewah, the bewitching daughter
of the great chief who ruled over the destiny of his peo-
ple at that time. Weosma had first met her while on a
hunting expedition in the south, and ever after that event-
ful day his life was not the same; he was unhappy when
out of her company and seemed to take pleasure only in
ii4 THE CROOKED TREE
performing brave deeds that he might be worthy of Ene-
wah's love. She in turn looked with favor upon his at-
tentions and ere long the necessary parental consent was
obtained and a date announced for the wedding ceremony.
Great preparations were made for the occasion, and all
looked bright and promising for the future life of the
young couple.
But in the annals of L'Arbre Croche, as elsewhere, the
course of true love never did run smooth, and an evil one
appeared upon the scene, who, by the fertility of a cun-
ning brain, blasted forever the high hopes and fond dreams
of the devoted pair. Amo, the Bee, a rejected suitor of
Enewah's, had sworn revenge upon the fair young maiden,
and now came a glorious opportunity to carry out the
vendetta.
As Weosma was a very popular young man, it was de-
cided to hold a great feast in honor of his success in win-
ning the chieftain's daughter. The evening previous to the
occasion Amo arrived at Enewah's wigwam in breathless
haste and warned the young girl not to marry a man who
was already betrothed to a woman of another tribe, which,
to the Ottawas, was a terrible crime. Enewah only
laughed in scorn at the Bee's scheme and turned away,
saying that Weosma was too good a man to do anything
of that kind. Then Amo told the story to her father, the
great chief, who, thinking him his friend, forbade his
daughter marrying such a scoundrel as Weosma was
shown to be.
When therefore Weosma arrived at Enewah's wigwam
THE CROOKED TREE 115
that evening to present her with a white deer skin that he
had just taken, the chief received him very coldly and
told him what he had heard. Excuses were of no avail and
after a few words Weosma was ordered out of his sight
forever.
In despair the young man returned to his home. The
next morning bright and early he took down his bow and
quiver of arrows and started for the forest. He returned
shortly, bringing with him two white pigeons, which he
threw upon the ground before his mother, saying:
"Mother, I am as innocent as these pigeons of the crime
of which I am accused ; I know you will believe me if no
one else will. These are the last birds I will ever shoot
for you," and as he uttered the words he drove his hunt-
ing knife to his heart and expired.
The news of his death spread quickly throughout the
tribe, and the gay throng that was to gather en fete on the
morrow was turned into one of utter chagrin and dis-
couragement. The festive dances were abandoned and in-
stead could be heard the mournful notes of the songs of
lament.
When the chief heard of the story of the pigeons he
at once summoned Amo, "The Bee," but the latter, think-
ing the truth would be discovered, had fled the country.
Enewah, who had cherished the hope that her lover
might be proved innocent in the sight of her father, be-
came almost frantic at the sad news of his death. She
rapidly pined away, and finally ended her earthly exist-
ence in the same manner as Weosma, exclaiming: "Bama
u6
THE CROOKED TREE
pe ning ga wa ba ma," which translated means, "I will
see him by and by."
The two mounds mark the spot where the lovers were
laid to rest side by side and the silent forest has kept the
secret for more than a century.
THE GREAT MUCKWAH
Frequently we find more than one legend regarding a
certain place. This is largely accounted for by the not
uncommon custom of adopting stories of friendly tribes,
which often passed current from one to the other. For
example, the writer has heard at least three different
legends as to the origin of Mackinac Island, all of which
were authentic Indian stories. Following is another ver-
sion of the Sleeping Bear:
From the land of the Illinois word came to the tribes
of Michigan that a giant black bear had made its appear-
ance and was killing many people and devastating the
country. In vain had the boldest hunters essayed to match
their strength and skill with that of the great "muck-
wah." It was said that he was so large and powerful that
he paid no attention whatever to arrows or spears; but
knocked over the strongest warriors with a mere slap of
his huge paw and devoured men, women and children. All
the country was in alarm and people fled from their
homes to places of safety.
No calamity of equal importance had occurred since the
great famine or the days of the flood.
Sogimaw, the most noted hunter of the Ottawas, was
prevailed upon to seek the monster and slay him. Sogi-
maw was gone a fortnight and returned with the word
117
ii8 THE CROOKED TREE
that he had seen Muckwah; but if he were ten times as
strong and as big as twenty more men like himself he
would still be no match for the animal.
The people all shuddered at his story ; and were further
terror-stricken when the report came that the giant bear
was making his way northward, leaving death and deso-
lation in his wake. They huddled together in the wig-
wams, quaking with fear at every little noise, thinking it
might be Muckwah ready to pounce upon them.
Mondapee, an old brave who towered head and shoul-
ders above his companions — a veteran who had been able
to overpower all his adversaries, laughed and said, 'Do
not be alarmed, my children; I will go forth and kill
Muckwah."
With his heaviest warclub, arrayed in his famous fight-
ing costume, Mondapee sallied forth amid the plaudits of
his people. For six days nothing was heard from him ; but
horrible stories still reached his tribesmen regarding the
depredations of the great bear. So a searching party was
sent out for the warrior. Not very far from his home in
the forest, near a clump of hemlock trees, they found
Mondapee's warclub and a few belongings. He had been
torn to pieces and devoured by Muckwah.
A day or two later a little girl ran breathless into her
parents' wigwam saying that she had seen Muckwah;
that he had killed the two companions with whom she
was playing, but by running swiftly through the bushes
she herself had managed to escape. When asked to de-
scribe the monster she said he was taller than the high-
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THE CROOKED TREE 119
est wigwam and longer than six canoes placed end to
end.
Frantically the people hid themselves in caves and in
other out of the way places. Any person who had the
temerity to stray away to any distance generally disap-
peared forever; and if they were so fortunate as to re-
turn it was always with additional tales of rapine and
murder.
Wily and crafty runners were sent out over the coun-
try in an effort to band the inhabitants together for a
united attack upon Muckwah but before the plan could
be put into execution the ferocious beast attacked three
of the largest villages in the proposed federation and de-
stroyed every wigwam. It seemed as though the monster
was destined to crush all human opposition, and the
population was in despair.
A few days after this cataclysm, however, it was re-
ported that Muckwah, satiated with his crimes and misde-
meanors, had curled up on the shore of the lake to take his
long winter nap. Now was the time for action ! Councils
were held and vast bands of warriors assembled ; huge
flint-tipped arrows were hastily manufactured and giant
spears devised; war dances were the common pastime,
and soon the signal smoke arose from every hilltop.
In the meantime, while all these vast preparations were
going on, Muckwah was overpowered and conquered ; not
by warriors, but by a gentle maiden, who to save the
people, carried a potion from an old sorceress, and creep-
ing cautiously over the sand dunes, placed it carefully at
120
THE CROOKED TREE
the nostrils of the bear. Muckwah was soon overcome
by the powerful fumes and expired with scarcely a
struggle.
He lies to this day where his death took place, on the
east shore of Lake Michigan, where he may be seen from
passing boats at a point called Sleeping Bear.
THE WISE CHIEFTAIN OF BAY VIEW
Ne-bwa Ka-o-ke-maw was a very learned Indian, his
name signifying the wise chieftain. Most of his people
resided on the north side of Little Traverse bay, but what
is now Bay View, the summer city, seemed to have a
strange fascination for him; and he built a house there
which he named "Bay-she-kane-daw-kwuck ne wigwam,"
meaning "My beautiful home."
Often after he had returned from the chase, Ne-bwa
Ka-o-ke-maw would sit on the shore near his wigwam
and watch the setting sun, and after night had spread her
sable folds he would meditate on the moon and stars. It is
related to him that he composed poetry which he took
great delight in reciting to his subjects.
The following stanza, which was handed down from
generation to generation among the Indians, is said to
have been composed by this wonderful man:
Anawe awe waiabine wingwed
Agimakang jajaie nindakimina;
Aka dash wi wika odamakasin
Wadashi minawanigo kioseiang.
Translation:
Although the cruel paleface
In our land may now be found,
He will never find a place
In our happy hunting ground.
121
122
THE CROOKED TREE
He was found dead one morning on the beach, where
he had remained all night trying to make out what the
stars were.
He was buried near the spot he loved so well, amid the
sorrow of his entire tribe.
THE INDIAN COMPANY
A company of Indian soldiers from the Arbre Croche
country fought in the Civil War under General Grant
from the battle of the Wilderness until the surrender of
the Confederates at Appomattox Court House. Company
K, First Michigan Sharpshooters, was mustered into
service January 12, 1863; was stationed for a time at
Fort Dearborn to guard the State arsenal at that place
and soon after was ordered to the front. With Grant
the Indians crossed the Rapidan and received their bap-
tism of fire in the terrible battle of the Wilderness. They
also took part in the hard-fought engagements of Spottsyl-
vania Court House, Cold Harbor and Petersburg, and
letters received home from superior officers stated that
these men were among the best soldiers in the service, gal-
lantly charging in direct assault as well as doing effec-
tive sharpshooting and picket duty. Although being dis-
possessed at home, they fought as valiantly under the
Stars and Stripes as their ancestors did under the plumes
of the wild American eagle, and let it be said in all
justice that they cast a glamour over the annals of the
North that shall not easily be effaced.
Of the hundred men who left to fight for their coun-
try, more than half were killed in battle and practically
123
124 THE CROOKED TREE
all the rest were wounded. At the present time there are
but two survivors.
Lieut. Garrett A. Graveraet, who recruited the In-
dians and organized the company, brilliantly led his men
in a daring charge at Spottsylvania after seeing his father
shot dead at his side. At Petersburg, he was badly
wounded in the left arm and died the first day of July fol-
lowing at Army Square Hospital, Washington, D. C.
Lieut. Graveraet was a talented young man, an accom-
plished artist and a splendid musician. He was one of the
first government teachers of the Indians at L'Arbre
Croche and had great influence among the natives. Al-
ways honorable and straightforward in his dealings with
them, his confidence was never betrayed and "My In-
dians," as he loved to call them, proved true and lasting
friends. The remnants of the little band were among the
first to enter Richmond to share in the great victory the
North had won.
An amusing incident is related of Antoine Tabayant,
one of the members of the Indian company. Twins, two
boys, were born to him, after he had gone to the front,
and Mrs. Tabayant at once wrote to her husband asking
what names should be given them, for in the Indian cus-
tom it was the father's sacred prerogative to christen his
sons.
Antoine answered immediately to call one Abraham
Lincoln and the other Jefferson Davis.
His wife did as requested and the twins grew up to be
THE CROOKED TREE 125
lively youngsters; but sad to relate, both died before An-
toine returned home from the war.
He did not know it, however, and as soon as he met
his wife, after being mustered out, he inquired about the
boys.
Sorrowfully the mother informed him of their death.
For a time the old warrior was disconsolate ; but finally
he summoned up courage and asked for particulars; how
they had behaved, what they had done, and all about
them.
"Well," replied Mrs. Tabayant, "they were always
fighting. I couldn't turn my back but what they would
be pulling one another's hair, clawing and biting and
banging each other in the nose and eyes."
Antoine pricked up his ears. "Which one was the best
man?" he asked blandly.
"Oh, Abraham Lincoln was always on top," answered
his wife. "He could throw Jefferson Davis down, blacken
his eyes and make his nose bleed every time."
The soldier's face lit up with a broad smile. "By golly,
that's purty gosh darn good!" he exclaimed. "Jus' like
I tole them fellers down South, aroun' Richmond —
'You'll never find a Jefferson Davis that can lick one of
our Abraham Linkum's."
"THE KING OF THE STAR" OR THE
LEGEND OF MACKINAC ISLAND
According to an old tradition a party of Indian war-
riors were standing on the hill at the present site of St.
Ignace, gazing out over the waters, when to their sur-
prise they saw a huge object rise to the surface. It proved
to be the island of Mackinac; but it so much resembled
a large turtle that the Indians pronounced it, at the time,
to be one. Its ancient name Michillimackinac signifies
"giant turtle."
The island has always been clothed in mysticism and
romance and is the very abode of legendary lore. Upon
its rocky cliffs rollicking fairies danced, sang and laughed
away their lives.
It is said that after the Great Spirit had created the
island he placed it in the care of kindred spirits of the
earth, air and water and told them it was to be forever
the abiding place of peace and quiet. He was so pleased
with the place in fact that he said he would make it his
own home whenever he sojourned upon the earth.
The principal legend of Mackinac Island as related by
the older Indians was as follows:
A poverty-stricken old man of the North by the name
of Osseo took for his bride a slip of a girl who had nine
sisters all married to handsome young men.
126
THE CROOKED TREE 127
Her relatives laughed when they heard of the unusual
match and predicted that this union of December to May
would never prove happy.
But the girl was unmoved by their jeers and only re-
plied: "I have made my choice and we will see who has
acted wisest in the long run."
Shortly after the marriage the entire family started out
one pleasant afternoon for a walk through the wood. All
the bride's sisters and their husbands turned pitying
glances at Osseo's mate.
"Too bad," said the oldest, "that our pretty little ne-
she-ma (sister), had to marry that crippled old man.
What a blessing it would be if he could stumble over a
root and fall and break his neck so she could have a hand-
some husband like the rest of us."
In spite of this talk the young bride continued good-
naturedly to help her husband along as best she could and
bestowed upon him fond caresses and many acts of kind-
ness.
Suddenly Osseo stopped at a large hollow hemlock log
and looking up into the sky shouted: "Sho-wain-ne-me-
shin, Nosa" (Pity me, my father).
Then darting into one end of the log he emerged from
the other a handsome young brave, bearing the totem of
the turtle. With light steps and joyful heart he took his
wife by the hand and made his way to the head of the
procession ; but alas ! she now was an old woman, bent and
haggard, scarcely able to walk.
When Osseo saw what had taken place he was dumb-
128 THE CROOKED TREE
founded and nearly crushed with sorrow. With bowed
head he led his wife back to his former position in the
rear of the others ; but he was very kind and considerate
to her as she had been to him during the period of his
own enchantment.
After a while the party came to a lodge and entered
it to prepare some food. When all were inside, the others
noticed Osseo withdraw to an open space a little ways
from the lodge and again address himself to his father
in the skies. Soon sounds were heard as of far-off music
and a voice spoke to the young man as follows:
"Osseo, my son, I am conscious of your afflictions. I
have heard your prayer and therefore summon you to
come and dwell with me in the heavens where there are
no trials nor tribulations. Leave your earthly habitation
which is filled with sorrow, pain and disappointments. I
have listened to your entreaty because you were ridiculed
and abused by your companions. At the hollow hemlock
I overcame the spell that bound you — the work of an evil
spirit that resides on a neighboring star. Never let his
beams strike you for they are the weapons he uses to work
his wicked designs. He has enchanted your wife for a
little while, but be not alarmed for I will dispel his
power over her also. Arise, my son, and bring all your
friends with you. Here your possessions will be turned
into gold and silver; joy and contentment will be your
constant attendants. I will clothe you with the beauty of
the starlight and endow you with the knowledge and wis-
OLD INDIAN TRAIL AT MACKINAC ISLAND
THE CROOKED TREE 129
dom of a great Manitou. Come, for the King of the
Star is calling you to everlasting happiness."
No sooner were the words uttered than the lodge be-
gan to careen and rise into the air. Osseo's relatives ran
to the door to jump out but were too late — already they
were high above the trees. Then the lodge assumed the
form of a cage and the inmates became various birds of
beautiful plumage — robins, blue jays, red birds, canaries,
humming birds, parrots, orioles and flamingoes, and Os-
seo's wife was transformed into a turtle dove, the most
handsome and lovely bird of all, called O-me-me. But
she did not long retain this form for the King of the Star
returned her to her husband with all her former youthful
grace and charm.
Osseo was then instructed to hang the cage with its
captives at the door and to enter with O-me-me into the
new realm to enjoy themselves forever. They lived on the
star for many years and a son was born to increase their
happiness. He proved to be a great favorite with his
grandfather, the King of the Star, who indulged him in
every way. One day the boy learned that shooting with a
bow and arrow was the favorite pastime on the earth be-
low and he longed for one of the weapons. So the King
of the Star presented him with an outfit and the birds
were liberated from the cage that he might try his skill.
His very first shot brought down a beautiful white
owl, but when he went to pick it up, behold! it was one
of his aunts with an arrow sticking through her heart.
130
THE CROOKED TREE
The moment that pure and spotless star was stained by
her blood the spell was dissolved. Slowly the cage and its
occupants began to sink to the earth. The birds again
assumed their natural forms but were so much reduced in
size that they resembled fairies. At last they landed upon
'the Island of Mackinac where they have since resided,
giving rise to the name "Fairy Island."
In Indian they are called Mish-in-e-mok-in-ok-ong, or
"turtle spirits," and frequently they may be seen dancing
on the pinnacles of the rocks and cliffs. Their voices may
be heard at times, particularly on quiet moonlight nights,
as they sing their refrains in homage to the King of the
Star.
SUPERSTITIONS OF THE STRAW-
BERRY AND BLACKBERRY
After the first man and woman were created they lived
in happiness for a time, but as all husbands and wives
have done ever since, they soon began to quarrel. At last
it became so unpleasant in the wigwam that the woman
decided to leave her husband and started off toward the
land of the setting sun.
After she had been gone a little while the man sat down
sorrowfully in front of his camp fire to think it over.
Whereupon the Great Spirit looked into his heart and
seeing that he was sad asked him if he would like to have
his wife back again.
He replied joyfully in the affirmative and promised
that if she were returned to him he would never quarrel
any more.
So the Great Spirit caused a patch of delicious huckle-
berries to spring up by the side of the woman as she
walked along; but she passed them by unheeding. Then
he scattered in turn raspberries, sand cherries, gooseber-
ries, whortleberries and wild fruits of many kinds and
descriptions along the pathway ; still the woman remained
untempted. Finally as a last resort the Great Spirit
131
132 THE CROOKED TREE
created a patch of strawberries, the first of their kind.
Upon seeing them the woman immediately stopped to
gather some and owing to her delay her husband had time
to overtake her. Then she presented him with some of the
choicest and they returned home together.
The Indians call the strawberry Odamin, which means
"heart berry." It figures conspicuously in their mythology.
The legend of another popular berry runs as follows:
The prickers on blackberry vines were caused by the
burial of a very wicked warrior who had unjustly tor-
mented a rival and his intended bride. His victim at last
left the country with a war party and nothing was heard
of him for weeks.
Then one day the wicked Indian appeared to the maiden
and told her her lover was dead — that he had been am-
bushed and scalped by the Sioux. The story was only a
fabrication but the shock so preyed upon the girl's mind
that it caused her death.
When her lover returned from the war and learned
the truth, he challenged his rival to mortal combat. He
was killed in the melee and buried by the side of his
sweetheart. Then his friends revenged him by killing his
enemy. The latter was buried between the other two
graves — the reason assigned being that as he had come
between them while they were alive, it was but meet
that he should repose there after death as a continual re-
minder of his crime. His spirit seeking release from its
IN THE MURMURING FOREST NEAR HARBOR SPRINGS
THE CROOKED TREE 133
terrible anguish strove to arise from the grave but could
only cling to the blackberry brambles about the mounds
and its wickedness produced the prickers with which these
vines have since been covered.
THE MOCCASIN FLOWER
When the first union between a white man and an
Indian woman took place, the parents of the bride were
greatly angered. They ordered the white man out of the
village and told their daughter that if she did not leave
the paleface they would disown her forever.
The husband, thus forced to leave, started away in
his canoe in great sorrow, but his wife, true to her vows,
followed along the shore all one day trying to call him
back. As dusk came on she lost her way and fell in a
faint and all night long the owls echoed her calls to her
banished husband. The next day, flowers resembling her
moccasins, were found all along her track. These are the
white lady slippers. By her side was her babe held tightly
in her death grasp. The Indians call them "Ko ko, ko ho
moccasin," which means "owl shoes."
134
THE HANGING OF WAU-GOOSH
Away back in the early part of the last century there
occurred in northern Michigan a public execution which
attracted widespread attention. A scaffold was erected
on Mackinac Island and a large crowd, numbering sev-
eral hundred, assembled to witness the hanging of a bad
Indian. The criminal was a bandit Ottawa who had
killed many whites and terrorized the country about the
straits for a generation.
The Indians for the most part had accepted the ways
of their white brethren and were becoming more or less
civilized; but not so with Waugoosh, "The Fox," who
absolutely refused to recognize his new masters. In his
youth, his family had suffered wrongs at the hands of the
hated invaders, and Waugoosh could neither forget nor
forgive. His disposition was altogether different from that
of his conquerors — his sole ambition centered in revenge.
How many white people he had dispatched with his
tomahawk nobody knew, but it was said to be a large
number. When some hunter was ambushed and murdered,
or a helpless woman attacked and scalped while unpro-
tected in the home or field, the authorities knew it was the
work of Waugoosh. The few sheriffs and deputies then
in the region were authorized to capture the desperado,
135
i36 THE CROOKED TREE
dead or alive, and a big reward hung over his head.
Nevertheless, by his native cunning and crafty plans he
continued his bloody work and evaded the authorities
for many years.
One of the crimes charged up against Waugoosh was
the butchering of an entire English family that had
sought to establish a home in the wilderness near Thun-
der Bay. The Indian killed the father and mother in a
most brutal manner; then took the five young children,
and, stringing them on a pole, hung them in the crotch
of two trees. There he said they would dry and turn into
toads, which he claimed would be a fit termination for
all white people. Other acts equally as cruel filled the
bloody pages of Waugoosh's history.
But at last the criminal was captured by a party of
hunters after an exciting fight in the forests of Mackinaw
county; and in order to set an example to all Indians in-
clined to question the supreme authority of the govern-
ment, it was decided to hang Waugoosh in the public
square.
The renegade, undaunted and seemingly unconcerned,
followed the officers and hangman to the gallows. Just
prior to the execution he was asked if he had anything to
say. To this question he responded in his native tongue
as follows, the speech being translated for those present
by Madame La Framboise who was engaged for the pur-
pose:
"I have killed hundreds of white people and know that
I deserve to be punished. I don't expect any leniency;
THE CROOKED TREE 137
neither do I ask any. At the time I committed these
murders I did not know it was wrong; I thought I was
doing my duty and the more scalps I took the happier I
seemed to be. But through the instruction of your priest I
now realize that what I did was very wrong. I am there-
fore exceedingly sorry and wish to say to all my people
that they should obey the laws and not seek to kill
others as I have done.
"Long ago I was taught that every white man was my
enemy; that I should ask him no favor and grant no
quarter. Now all this has changed. I understand this new
belief. I see that the Great Spirit intended us to live in
peace on the earth, and not fight nor quarrel. For all this
knowledge I am grateful to your priest. My last wish
is for the Indians to be good citizens of this country which
has passed permanently into the hands of a new race, no
doubt for a wise and good purpose. I have repented of
my sins and now I shall die happy, fully believing that
the wonderful Redeemer of the white man is also the
Great Spirit of the Indian and that He will not turn
His back when we ask to be forgiven."
WHY CAMPFIRES CRACKLE
The Ojibway Indians thought that the thunder was
caused by thunder birds that nested first in the region of
Lake Superior and later, after the white man came, in
the Rocky Mountains. When these birds winked their
eyes they made the lightning, and the thunder was the
roar of their wings as they sailed through the upper re-
gions of the atmosphere. They often passed overhead on
their way to and from the ocean where they went for
serpents and fish.
These huge birds sailed so high that they could not be
seen, but once one of them swooped down and caught a
great hunter, who had lost his way in the forest, in its
talons, and soared away. It took him to its nest on a high
cliff where a number of the young birds began to peck
the man's head. This so angered him that he commenced
to battle with them and finally he overcame the flock.
Then using the skin of one as a covering, he spread out
the wings and sailed to the spot where he had first been
captured, bringing with him the hearts of the young birds.
These he put in the fire and burned up when he got back
to his village. As they burned they made a crackling noise
and jumped about on the coals. So, afterwards, whenever
the fire crackled in the lodges of the Indians they said it
138
THE CROOKED TREE
139
was the noise that originated by the burning of the hearts
of the young thunder birds.
Since then the birds belonging to this species are never
seen, but are often heard far up in the skies. Their tears,
as they mourn for their young, dampen the earth.
ENGLAND'S REVENGE
No trouble has been experienced by our government or
any of the white people with the Indians of L'Arbre
Croche since Pontiac's Conspiracy. That contest witnessed
their last resort to arms, undertaken for the purpose of
punishing the English for having defeated their great
father, the king of France.
The result of the Conspiracy proper, however, did not
break their power, though it declined shortly afterward.
What really proved to be their undoing has always been
charged by the Indians to an act of treachery and revenge
on the part of the British. We have many times heard
the rumor — it was a favorite topic among the older In-
dians. The reason the story does not appear in history is
probably because the missionaries had abandoned L'Arbre
Croche at that period and there was no one left to write
the sad details.
No doubt we can best preserve the tradition by relat-
ing it in the words of an old brave who told it to the
author personally:
"A long time ago," he said, "a tall pine tree with its
top branches bent toward the east, stood on the shore a
little ways north of Good Hart and was cherished by the
Indians as a famous landmark. It disappeared about one
140
THE CROOKED TREE 141
hundred years ago. Another grew in its place which was
cut down by a bad man fifty years later. The offender had
a miserable existence after that and died suddenly. He
was punished by the Great Spirit because the Crooked
Tree was sacred to the Indians. All the country sur-
rounding it bore its name of 'Wau-go-naw-ki-si.'
"At the time of Pontiac the Ottawas in the region were
as numerous as the leaves upon the trees and the great
chieftain, who was himself an Ottawa, invited them to
join him in his efforts to drive out the English. Many re-
sponded to his call because they loved the French people
and regretted their defeat. After the war was over the
English sent emissaries to L'Arbre Croche with presents
and invited the headmen to Montreal for a council.
"There they gave them more presents in token of sup-
posed friendship and as the chiefs were about to depart
presented them with several silver boxes which were not
to be opened until they reached their native village.
"The chiefs cheerfully consented to the request and
brought the boxes safely home where they distributed
their contents, consisting of trinkets, ornaments and gew-
gaws, among their people. Soon hundreds and hundreds
were seized with fever and died in great agony for the
boxes contained smallpox germs and were sent by the
English for the purpose of punishing the Indians for hav-
ing aided Pontiac. That is why so many bones and skele-
tons were found near the surface of the ground, especially
at Old Middle Village where the first mission was estab-
lished, about a mile south of the present Middle Village.
i42 THE CROOKED TREE
The Indians died so rapidly that they could not be prop-
erly buried and nearly all the survivors scattered in terror
to other parts of the country. They came back in time,
but never again did they regain their former prestige."
ORIGIN OF THE NAME "CHICAGO"
Evidently the name "Chicago" is of Algonquin origin.
The Ottawas have the word, "She-gog" which means "a
little furred animal with a strong odor," commonly known
as a "skunk." But granting this to be the root of the
name, where does the third syllable "o" come from?
After interviewing dozens of Indians regarding the
matter we find the following story related by Chief Oge-
maw of Good Hart to be the accepted version:
According to this authority, a white man — "No, hot
exactly a white man," explained Chief Ogemaw in his
narrative, "but maybe it was an Irishman," was trapping
near the Chicago river at an early day. He "jumped" a
she-gog, which ran to the river and started to swim across,
but sank in mid-stream never to reappear. The Irishman
pursued it to the river bank where an old Indian was
pitching his wigwam.
"What kind of an animal was that?" asked the Irish-
man.
"She-gog," grunted the old man.
"Where did it go?" inquired the trapper peering up
and down the stream.
"The old man pointed to the river bottom and replied:
'That's where the she-gog go.' "
Although this story or variations of it is related by
143
144
THE CROOKED TREE
many Indians, nevertheless the writer questions its au-
thenticity. He thinks it a pure invention, probably origi-
nating with some early trader.
More likely the name Chicago was derived from the
term "chica-go-e-sheeg," an Ottawa word signifying
"leeks" or "wild onions." The full name "Chicago" ap-
pears therein, the two last syllables being dropped for
brevity's sake. It is said that there were many wild
onions in the vicinity of the Chicago river in former
times.
AN INCIDENT OF EARLY MACKINAC
In the olden days the Indians reserved the riparian
rights about Mackinac Island and during treaty payment
times always pitched their tents and wigwams along the
shore. It was a common sight to see hundreds of tepees
strung along the beach, but the debris that resulted was
an annoyance to the fashionable ladies of the island.
Upon one occasion some of them went to the Indian
agent and made a complaint. They were so insistent about
the matter that the agent called the Indians together and
told them they would have to stop throwing their fish
bones upon the beach.
"What do you want us to do?" asked the chief, "Eat
the bones and all?"
"No;" replied the agent, "you don't have to do that,
but instead put them in bags and take them away with
you."
The Indians were very sullen as they left the meeting
and it is said some were so incensed over this seemingly
absurd request that when they departed from the island
in their canoes, they threw the bags of fish bones inland
as far as they could.
145
LEGEND OF HARBOR POINT
The Indians of L'Arbre Croche were once ruled by a
great chief who resided on the isle of Mackinac, and who
went by the name of Potch-i-nong.
This great chief possessed supernatural powers and was
greatly feared by his subjects who obeyed and honored
him in all things. He ruled his people with a mighty hand
and woe to him who dared disobey his commands.
Besides his earthly subjects, Potchinong presided over
many fairy beings who came and went at his bidding and
who made his home merry with their shouts and laughter.
The lovelies^ of these strange beings was Wa-ka-sa-mo-
qua, the chief's only daughter, who was as pleasant and
kind as she was beautiful. But unlike the rest of her
proud companions, she used to mingle with the people of
the earth, much against her father's wishes. Potchinong
had always boasted of his fine blood and bravery and said
he would rather see his daughter killed than to have her
marry among the mortals. He was a manitou (spirit) as
well as a chief. Wa-ka-sa-mo-qua, however, continued her
visits to the earth and fell in love with a young chief,
Wen-de-ba-jig, handsome and brave, who resided on the
mainland.
Potchinong learned of the disgraceful affair, and sum-
moning his daughter, told her that she must stop all non-
146
THE CROOKED TREE 147
sense with the young chief and thus prevent dishonor and
disgrace from falling on the family. He had already given
his daughter's hand to a noted southern Motchi Manitou
who was wealthy and powerful like himself ; but the girl
was as bent in her inclination as her father, and would
not hear of her marriage to this evil one.
In vain did Potchinong interpose. Wa-ka-sa-mo-qua
loved Wen-de-ba-jig and did not hesitate in telling her
father that she intended to marry him.
Finally Potchinong, seeing that he could not dissuade
his daughter, decided to have her paramour put to death.
Wa-ka-sa-mo-qua learned of her father's evil deter-
mination, and when night had folded its mantle over the
Fairy Isle, she went with all haste to her lover and in-
formed him of what she had heard, and enveloping him
in a cloud she rendered him invisible and immortal. They
then embarked in a canoe and made their way to the west-
ern shores of Me-ne-shance, "little island" (now Harbor
Point), in Little Traverse bay.
Here they lived in happiness for many moons, but one
evening when Wen-de-ba-jig had returned from the chase
across the bay, his canoe loaded with the game he had
slain, he was amazed to find a deep pool where his lodge
had stood, and upon the bank, smiling derisively at him,
was the Motchi-Manitou. He told Wen-de-ba-jig that he
had taken his wife to dwell with him beneath the wave,
but promised the pleading husband that he would return
her when the island and mainland should become con-
nected by solid ground.
148 THE CROOKED TREE
Wen-de-ba-jig at once set to work upon the task that
would restore to him his faithful wife, for a manitou,
no matter how bad, will never break his word. After
many centuries of toil the tireless worker succeeded in
making the island and mainland one, with the exception
of the spot where the pool stood, which from its great
depth was known as the "Devil's Pond," and the filling
of which was a task beyond the power of Wen-de-ba-jig,
who like Sisyphus of old rolling the stone forever, never
ceased in his arduous labors.
The Motchi Manitou's voice could often be heard from
the pond shouting mockingly at the indefatigable toiler,
and, until it was filled by the refuse from a saw mill that
was located near by, it was necessary to quell his spirits
by occasional incantations and the firing of volleys into
the water, accompanied by other ceremonies of "shooting
the devil."
The evil spirit long since disappeared, no doubt dis-
couraged by the introduction of modern machinery and
when the last load of sawdust was dumped into the Devil's
Pond, the happy union of the separated couple can be
imagined.
fo fr.v Trotip
OTTAWA MAIDEN
THE LEGEND OF THE WATER LILY
The Ojibways took precedence over all other tribes in
the richness of their legendary lore and traditional tales.
One of their best known legends is that regarding the
water lily.
Once a young warrior noticed a star which seemed to
be much brighter and nearer the earth than any of its
companions. Upon going to bed the young man dreamed
that the star descended and remained suspended in the
air before him in the form of a beautiful maiden, who
spoke as follows:
"I desire to live with the people of the earth. Show
me a place where I can take up my habitation."
The young man suggested to her a place up in the trees.
"No," she said, "I would not be happy there. I would
have only the birds for my companions. I would prefer to
be nearer the ground where I can come in contact with
the mortals of the earth whom I have learned to love."
The young man then suggested other places, along the
hillside, in the valleys, or by the cliffs and rocks.
"None of those places will do, so I will select my own
home."
Thus saying, she descended to the water nearby and
dropped out of sight in its depth.
149
150 THE CROOKED TREE
The young man in sorrow darted to the spot where
she had disappeared, in the hopes of rescuing her.
There he saw only a beautiful white lily into which the
maiden had been transformed.
These lovely flowers have ever since been found in
and around the waters of the north.
OLD MAN WINTER
In a dark, deep and dangerous forest, once lived an old
man, alone, and even woodland friends he had but few.
The winter had been unusually cold and severe. The
old man had suffered with the intense cold in spite of the
warm skins he clothed himself with. One day, he found
he could not leave his cabin, the snow being too deep
and the air too cold.
And in his great despair, he called upon the Great God,
Manitou, for aid. In answer to his prayer, the North
Wind blew back the covering from the cabin door and, lo
and behold! there entered a beautiful maiden, her head
wreathed with the most fragrant of pink flowers, which
warmed and perfumed the air about her. On her feet were
moccasins of white lilies, and her robes were of ferns,
sweet grasses, budding leaves and blossoms.
The old man looked upon his visitor with wonder, for
he knew she had been sent in answer to his prayer, and,
being powerful and gifted with magic himself, unless sub-
dued by the enraged elements, he understood she was
equally as powerful in magic; for hadn't the Great God,
Manitou, sent her.
He bade her welcome and asked who she might be, and
at the same time telling her that he too was great, for
his breath could freeze up the streams; one nod of his
151
152 THE CROOKED TREE
white head would cause the leaves to fall from the trees
and the forests and plains become carpeted with snow ; he
had but to walk about and the birds would leave in great
flocks for the South, the animals seek their dens in great
fear.
She, being unafraid, replied that her breath would
cause the flowers to spring from the earth in joy and
cover the woods and plains; a shake of her curls, the
soft rain falls, the brooks are no longer frozen, the birds
return and the animals stalk forth in great gladness, the
leaves burst forth and the great woods is filled with songs
of joy and gladness.
The old man was now growing too warm and sleepy.
Manitou felt that he had been powerful long enough and
that the fair maiden should reign for a long time to come.
She looked down on the sleepy one and listened; the call
of the bluebird came; the sun looked down on the melt-
ing snows ; the stream began to murmur ; the South wind
sang its song to the awakening trees; all of the out-of-
doors was glad and joyous.
The old man grew very small and slept on soundly.
The maiden laid vines of waxy green leaves and
fragrant pink flowers, like those she wore in her hair, on
the ground. Then softly she stole away, and from every
print of her moccasined feet there sprang the lovely arbu-
tus, each a tribute to her magic in causing sleep to fall
upon the old man Winter.
HOW THE MOON AND STARS CAME
Formerly the rabbit was a beautiful and graceful ani-
mal, having no superior in personal comeliness in the for-
est. But one bright day it came out into the open to lie
down and sleep in the warm sunshine.
At that time the sun was larger and brighter than it is
today and it beat down upon the poor rabbit so fiercely
that it burnt off his tail and bent his legs out of shape.
The little animal was awakened by the scorching sen-
sation and jumped up and hopped around in great anger.
At that time the rabbit carried little magic pellets which
it threw at its enemies to destroy them.
Resolving to avenge itself upon the sun, the rabbit
traveled to the end of the earth and when it got as near
as it could it threw one of its magic pellets at the great
orb and struck it full in the face. This caused a great
combustion and broke off a large piece which lodged in
another part of the sky and became the moon, and the
sparks flying in every direction from the explosion filled
the firmament with stars.
Since that time the rabbit never comes out of its hiding
place in the day time, but at night it sallies forth to play
and gambol, because it is not afraid of its friends — the
moon and stars — which it created.
153
EARLY HISTORY OF THE LITTLE
TRAVERSE BAY REGION 1
Some idea of the habits and customs of these Indians
when they were first visited by the whites, may be ob-
tained from an article by Father Menard, one of the
early missionaries who labored so zealously and who en-
dured so many hardships to spread the Gospel among the
Indians of this region. He says:
"There is a false and abominable religion similar in
many ways to that of some ancient pagans. The Indians
here do not acknowledge any sovereign Maker of Heaven
and Earth. They believe that there are many Manitous,
some of whom are beneficent, as the sun, the moon, the
lake, the river and woods; others malevolent, as for in-
stance, snakes, dragons, colds, storms; and in general,
all that appears to them useful or injurious, they call a
manitou, and they render to such objects the worship and
veneration which we give to the true God alone. They in-
voke them when they go to hunt, to fish, to war or on a
voyage.
"I have seen an idol set up in a village, to which
among other presents they offered ten dogs in sacrifice
that this false god might vouchsafe to banish elsewhere
a malady which was depopulating the village. During
storms and tempests they sacrifice a dog to the Lake,
1 Reprinted from "The Ottawan" by John C. Wright
154
THE CROOKED TREE 155
which they throw into the water saying: 'Here is some-
thing to pacify thee; be still!' For the rest, as these
people are dull, they do not acknowledge any deity
purely spiritual. They believe that the sun is a man,
and the moon is his wife; that snow and ice are also
human beings, who go away in spring and come back
again in winter; that the devil dwells in snakes, dragons
and other monsters; that crows, hawks and some other
birds are manitous and talk as well as we do, pretend-
ing there are some Indians who understand their lan-
guage, just as some of them understand a little French.
Moreover they believe that the souls of the departed gov-
ern the fishes of the lake and hence at all times they
have believed in the immortality of the soul, even holding
the doctrine of metempsychosis — that is the transmigra-
tion of the souls of deceased fishes, for they believe that
they again pass into the bodies of other fishes. For this
reason they never throw the remains from fish they
have eaten into the fire for fear of displeasing the shades
of those fishes, so that they might not come into their
nets any more."
L'Arbre Croche Mission
(Harbor Springs)
Who the first explorer was that entered Little Traverse
Bay is not definitely known. It was probably one of the
early French Voyageurs who traded with the Indians of
the Mackinac country. Perhaps Nicholas Perrot who
156 THE CROOKED TREE
stayed at Mackinac Island about 1665 and who made
frequent visits along the coast in different directions, was
the discoverer of Le Petit Travers.
It was about the time of Pere Marquette's residence at
Point St. Ignace, that the first mission was established on
the shores of Little Traverse Bay, although by whom it is
not known. Father Marquette went to St. Ignace in
the spring of 1671 with the Huron Indians who were
driven away from the mission of the Holy Ghost at La
Point de St. Esprit, Chequamegon Bay, at the western
end of Lake Superior, by the Nadouessi, a warlike tribe
of Indians who inhabited the banks of the Mississippi
river.
The mission at Little Traverse Bay may have been
established by Father Dablon, who built a chapel at
Michilimackinac the winter before Marquette's arrival
there.
Whether there was a resident priest at the mission at
the start we cannot ascertain, but if there was he probably
did not remain any great length of time. In 1695 we find
that it used to be attended by the fathers stationed at
Mackinaw, and the baptismal records are still preserved
at St. Ignace. The first entries are of 1741, and the last
of 1765, by Father Du Jaunay, acting Cure of Michili-
mackinac.
Probably the reason there was no resident priest at
Little Traverse Bay is because there were not so many
Indians at that point as at the other missions. However,
the number steadily increased as the surroundings were
THE CROOKED TREE 157
favorable. Fish and game were abundant and many of the
Indians had fields of corn. They were also very ingenious
and made baskets, mats and bags from the bark of the
bass-wood tree, which were handsomely colored with dyes
they made from roots and barks they found in the vicinity.
They also made many useful articles from birch bark.
But though they were somewhat more advanced than
other nomadic tribes they were very superstitious. Seven
miles west of the mission on the banks of a small stream,
was a large wooden idol painted and bedecked with
feathers and other finery which they worshiped and to
which they offered sacrifices. This was as late as Father
Baraga's time in 1831 and '32. The chapel was located
on the north side of the Bay, at the present site of the
Catholic Church of Harbor Springs, and was known as
L'Arbre Croche Mission. L'Arbre Croche village proper
was located about thirteen miles further up the coast
and at one time was the largest Indian village south of
the straits of Mackinac. It was at that point where the
Menominees, Chippewas and Ottawas held council, in
July of 1763 after the massacre of Fort Michilimackinac,
when the Ottawas had with them several English prison-
ers.
In 1825 Rev. Father Peter de Jean arrived in the
Little Traverse region and built a church at Seven Mile
Point; but as it proved unsatisfactory, the mission was
moved to the site of the old L'Arbre Croche mission
where a little log church — "prayer wigwam" — was built
by Father de Jean in 1827. During his stay at the new
158 THE CROOKED TREE
L'Arbre Croche Mission Father de Jean conducted a
day school for Indian children.
On the 2 ist day of April, 1821, the mission was taken
charge of by Father Baraga, who arrived from Cincin-
nati. A few weeks later Bishop Fenwick came and in-
stalled the zealous priest as pastor. "Happy day," says he,
writing to the Leopoldin society, "happy day, which has
placed me in the midst of the wild Indians, with whom
I will stay, if it be the will of God, until my last breath
be drawn."
He was well liked by the Indians and held services in
the little church morning and night. He was assisted
by an Indian Chief who read aloud from an Indian
prayer book. Father Baraga lived in the greatest pov-
erty. His pastoral residence was a rude log hut covered
with bark, and when it rained he was compelled to spread
his cloak over his books and papers to keep them from
getting wet. It is said of him that he felt happier than
a millionaire in his palace. During his stay at the L'Arbre
Croche Mission he baptized 461 Indians. In 1832 he
printed an Ottawa prayer and hymn book. He left the
mission in 1833 and afterward labored at different points
on the upper peninsula. In 1853 he was consecrated
Bishop of Sault Ste. Marie, the L'Arbre Croche Mission
being in his diocese.
A long list of priests succeeded him at L'Arbre Croche,
Father Pierz and Father Zorn each remaining a long
term of years.
THE CROOKED TREE 159
The old church that attracted so many tourists in later
years was erected about 1839.
One of the priests, Father Lantishar, who was at the mis-
sion from 1856 to 58, afterward went to northern Min-
nesota, and was frozen to death on the ice while attempt-
ing to cross the lake in mid-winter.
During the summer of 1884 the Franciscan fathers
were given charge of the mission.
The cemetery was formerly located back of the church,
but a few years ago every foot of space was used and
a tract of land was purchased north of the village. The
old cemetery was an odd looking spot. The Indians pro-
fusely decorated the graves with artificial flowers made
into wreaths and crosses, and also hung them in great
profusion on the little white-washed fences surrounding
the mounds.
The little village which grew up about the mission was
given the name of Little Traverse, taken from the French
name of the bay, Le Petit Travers, upon which it is situ-
ated. In 1851 continuous operations relating to the vil-
lage began when Richard Cooper arrived and opened a
small general store. From that time the white popula-
tion has had a steady growth. A number of old im-
plements and ancient articles have been unearthed near
by, showing that this region must have been inhabited at
some early date by a class of people quite highly advanced
in civilization — probably the mound builders.
For a number of years the village was of exceptional
160 THE CROOKED TREE
importance because of its being headquarters for the pay-
ment of the treaties made with the Indians of this section,
and hundreds of natives flocked to the place each year to
receive their annuities from the Government.
In 1 88 1 the town was incorporated and the name
changed to Harbor Springs, which was suggested by its
two leading advantages. The town now has a population
of about two thousand.
Petoskey
The next mission to be founded on the shores of Little
Traverse Bay was at Muh-quh Se-bing (Bear River) now
Petoskey, on the south side.
The Indian village on this side of the bay was origi-
nally at Muh-quh Ne-bi-sing (Bear Lake), the source of
Bear River. It was founded by three Ottawa Indians,
Pa-ba-ma-sha, The Sailor; A-ne-moose, Little Dog; and
Moon-a-ba-tum.
The first Indian to locate at the mouth of Bear River
was Sa-ga-na-qua-do, Rising Cloud, about 1825. Shortly
afterward the village at Bear Lake was moved to the
mouth of Bear River. The Indians never settled very
thickly at this point on the Bay. Up to 1851 nothing of
importance transpired, when a few Indian families moved
there from old Mission on Grand Traverse Bay. Shortly
after this Mr. P. Dougherty, who was conducting a Pres-
byterian school at Old Mission was requested by the
Indians to start a school at Bear River. He at first de-
INDIAN MISSION CHURCH
Built about 1833 and still stand-
ing at Petoskey. Oldest public build-
ing in northern Michigan south of
the Straits of Mackinaw.
THE CROOKED TREE 161
clined but was afterward prevailed upon to visit the
place, which he did in 1851—52, making a favorable
report to the Board of Missions under whose authority
he was acting. The Board accordingly appointed Mr.
Andrew Porter, a former teacher at Old Mission, to
take charge of the new school, which he did in 1852.
With much difficulty he succeeded in erecting a small
building on what is now the Jarman Farm, west of
Petoskey. Mr. Porter found the Indians kind and
friendly, he never having to turn a key to prevent their
stealing. He reposed the utmost confidence in them. Their
principal living was "min-da-min-a-bo," or corn soup.
They took great interest in their school and many learned
to read and write. After the Government established In-
dian schools this one was adopted, and Mr. Porter was
paid a salary as teacher. In 1871 the funds set apart for
this purpose were exhausted and the mission was aban-
doned.
In 1865, Hazen Ingalls, the first permanent white
settler, arrived and purchased a little mill, which was
built by a nephew of Mr. Porter in 1862. Mr. Ingalls
immediately set the mill in operation and opened a little
trading store, the first business place on the south shore
of Little Traverse Bay.
The year 1873 viewed the commencement of the
metropolis of the Little Traverse region, which was
named Petoskey in honor of Neyas Bedosega, an Indian
who owned all the land in the vicinity. His last name
translated means, "The Rising Sun," a fit name for the
162 THE CROOKED TREE
city that now casts its rays of influence over the entire
region. The same year the Post Office was moved to the
new settlement, Fox, Rose and Buttars commenced sell-
ing goods in a little log cabin, and shortly afterward
the G. R. & I. Railroad was finished to this point.
The general settlement of Emmet County was delayed
on account of its lands being held subject to Indian
treaty, but when, in 1874, the eastern townships came
into market, and two years later the remainder of the
county was opened for settlement, the village entered
upon its great career. Since that time the growth of
Petoskey has been phenomenal. It is now a city of about
four thousand inhabitants and has justly been termed
"The Pearl of the North."
Harbor Point
As soon as a way was opened to Little Traverse Bay
from the cities, many tourists were attracted to its shores
by the beauty of the surrounding country; resorts were
established and attractive cottages erected. Each sum-
mer brought hundreds of people who sought the healthful
climate and invigorating breezes of the bay.
One of the first resorts to be permanently established
was on a point which curves gracefully into the bay
directly in front of Harbor Springs, and thus forms one
of the best harbors on the Great Lakes. The resort was
named Harbor Point.
This beautiful bit of land was first purchased from
c» .2 2
Oc >>
, a >-
fn K
B Is
a -•-
w «-°
H
THE CROOKED TREE 163
the Indians by Rev. John B. Weikamp, a Franciscan
monk, who came from Chicago in 1855 f°r tne purpose of
establishing a mission for the Indians. He paid $100 for
the piece of ground. He afterward found it was insuf-
ficient for his purpose and moved to Cross Village.
The first resident of Harbor Point was C. R. Wright,
of St. James, Michigan, now a respected citizen qf
Harbor Springs.1 He moved to Harbor Point in 1853
and engaged in the copper business. His house and shop
were located near the end of the Point. He remained there
until 1856 when he went back to St. James.
In 1878 the land was purchased by a company in-
corporated as the Harbor Point Association, and opened as
a resort the following year. Harbor Point is now covered
with handsome cottages and is the pride of Little Tra-
verse Bay.
W 'e-que-ton-sing
We-que-ton-sing is a picturesque spot one mile east of
Harbor Springs. The resort comprises about eighty acres
of land donated to the Presbyterians by the citizens of
the latter place. In 1877 a Presbyterian committee which
met at Elkhart, Indiana, accepted the gift and the re-
sort was established under the name of The Presbyterian
Resort. The Indian name of the place was Wa-ba-bi-kang,
meaning a white, gravelly shore. The place was after-
ward called We-que-ton-sing, which was taken from the
Indian name for Little Traverse Bay.
1 Mr. Wright died at Harbor Springs in July 1901.
164 THE CROOKED TREE
Cross Village
Cross Village is situated on Lake Michigan about six-
teen miles north-west of Harbor Springs, and is a small
town of about 325 inhabitants, mostly Indians. The
popular belief is that the first mission was established
there by Pere Marquette, but this is not known for a
certainty. Probably the formation of the belief lies in
the fact that the Indians say that it was established by
"Kitchimekatewikwanaie," the Great Priest.
When the explorers first landed at Cross Village a
large cedar cross was erected on the hill, from which the
town derived its French name, La Croix, in Indian,
A-na-mi-a-wa-tig-on-ing. The Indians say it was placed
by their request over the grave of a chief whom they
greatly loved. The old cross has long ago succumbed to
the elements and another erected in its place, about two
rods from where the first cross stood. This one also has
been replaced several times, so that it would be impos-
sible to find the exact position of the first cross. The
present one is probably the fifth or sixth.
Who the first priest was that had charge of the La
Croix mission is not known. Indian tradition says that
the first priest at La Croix was well liked and con-
verted many of their number. It was probably Reverend
Father Du Jaunay. He stayed at La Croix nearly one
year, and thinking that he had sufficiently civilized the
Indians, he decided with their aid to celebrate Corpus
Christi in an appropriate manner. A large number of the
PS
E 5
THE CROOKED TREE 165
L'Arbre Croche Mission Indians were invited to attend
the ceremony. They arrived at La Croix the evening
previous. During the night two Indians became involved
in a quarrel over a girl. The members of the two mis-
sions took sides and a terrible massacre ensued. When
morning came the priest gazed in horror on the dead
bodies, and washing his hands of the affair, he embarked
in a canoe and left the spot forever.
When the Catholics returned and re-established the
abandoned missions in the Little Traverse Region in
1825, a church was built at La Croix by Father de Jean.
The history that is left of the mission is very meager.
The village at that time was located below the hill.
The old church which now stands near the center of
the village,1 was erected about 1848 by Father Mrak.
The last priest to have charge of the Mission was Father
Sifferath in 1868.
In 1875 the name of the town was changed from La
Croix to Cross Village.
1 Destroyed by a fire that swept Cross Village in October 1918.
GLOSSARY
A few Words and Phrases with their Ottawa
Equivalent
Ache — We-sug-e-naz-e-win.
Apple — Me-sheem-in.
Ashes — Bung- we.
Aunt — Ne-noo-sha.
Automobile — Gay-jeeb-e-
zood dob-on,
Boy — Skin-ne-gish, or Quee-
we-sance.
Basket — A ko-ko-be-naw-gun.
Boat — Chemon.
Butter — Zowa bimeda.
Candy — Ze-ze-baw-qua-donce.
Cat — Gaws-a-gance.
Coat — Beeska wagun.
Cow — Bi-sha-ka.
Cruel — Maw-jay yaw-wish.
Crying — Maw-wi-win.
Cucumbers — Ash-kit-a-mo.
Day — Keej-ick.
Dog — Mo-kaw-gee.
Doll — Dum-min wau-gun.
Eagle — Ma-gizzy-wass.
:East — Wa-ba-nong.
Eat — We-sin.
Flower — Wau-wass kona.
Flowing well — Mo-ki-tun.
Girl — Qua-sance.
Goat — Gitchi wa-bo-zoo.
Hand — O-ninge.
Hen — Bah-kaw-qua.
Homely — Mah-nah-de-za.
Horse — Baji-go-ga-ji.
Ill — Awkozy.
Indian — Nish-naw-ba.
Knowledge — Ki-kane-dah-mo-
win.
Laughter — Bop-a-win.
Look — Naw bin.
Lover — Ne-ne-mo-sha.
Man — A ninny.
Meat — We-oss.
Money — Show-nee-ah.
Noon — Now-o-quag.
North — Ke-way-di-noong.
Owl — Koko koho.
Pigeon — O-me-me.
Plum — Bugy-sawn.
Pretty — Qui-nage.
Quick — Way-weeb.
Rabbit — Wau-bo-zoo.
Resorter — Ne-bin nish-e-jig.
Road — Me-kun.
Robin — Pit-che.
South — Shaw-wah-noonjj.
Spring — Me-no-ka-mig.
Squirrel — A-jid-a-mo.
Summer — Ne-bin.
Tomorrow — Wau-bung.
Town — O-da-now.
Trousers — Me-kin-node.
True — Dabe-wa-win.
United States — O-da-na-win.
i68
THE CROOKED TREE
Utensil — A no-cause o-win-
nun.
Winter — Be-bone.
Well or spring — Mona bawn.
Wood — Me-sun.
White man — Che-mok-e-mon
(Big Knife).
West — A-pung-ish-a-moog.
Going down hill — Ne-saw-ki.
Going up hill — O-gie-daw-ki.
Go away — Wush-ti-ba.
Come with me — Maw-chon.
Hello or good-by — Bo-jo.
Let us play golf — O dum min
no dah, ma tig gonce, bah
quock ko donee.
Do you love me? — Ki zah gay,
e nah?
Let us have some fun — O sawn
a ways e dah.
Do you dance? — Gi neem nuck
ko?
Are you hungry? — Buck a
day, nah?
Lots of fun — Onona goozy win.
A moving picture show — Ba
baw mo say, mi zin itch i
gun, ma mon jeen o win.
I should worry — Dah niece
skane dum.
How old is Ann? — Ah nee
dush, Ann, Ah peet ah z\<l?
War is hell — De bish ko an
naw ma kom mig, me god
a win.
It's a nice day — Me no ki she
gut.
Come again next year — Me na
wah beshawn ne-bin.
Be careful — Wing gay zin.
Good luck — Me no say.
Rainy weather — Gim me one.
Certainly — Ah neen da.
Michigan signifies "a clearing"
and was first applied to the
northwestern shores of lower
Michigan where there were
large ancient clearings. The
Indian pronunciation is
Mashiganing.
Mackinac comes from the In-
dian word Mishinimakinang
and means "big turtle."
Wequetonsing — "Little bay."
By the Indians Harbor
Springs was and is still
called Wequetonsing. What
is now Wequetonsing resort
was called Wa-ba-bi-kong,
which means "a white
gravelly beach."
Petoskey — "Rising sun" or
"coming light."
Traverse City — Gitchi We-
que-ton — "Big bay."
Detroit — Wa-wi-ah-ti-nong.
Chicago — "Place of wild on-
ions," not skunk, as some
claim.
Grand Rapids — Bah-go-ting.
Mississippi — "Large river,"
pronounced in the principal
Algonquin dialects. Me-she-
se-be.
Cheboygan comes from the
word sha-bo-e-gun-ing and
means "going through."
Sing gog — Harbor Point — "A
beautiful point."
St. Ignace — Nad-a-way-qua-
yam-she-ing.
Charlevoix — Ma-daw-be Bah-
de-noong — "A passageway
down to the bay."
Way-ya-ga-mug — "Round
lake."
THE CROOKED TREE
169
Wau-go-naw-ki-sa — "The
crooked tree." This was the
name given to the country
from Harbor Springs (We-
quetonsing) to Cross Village.
Ah-na-may-wa-te-going —
Cross Village.
Ah-pi-tah-wa-ing — Middle
Village.
Muckwah ne bod — "Sleeping
Bear."
Muckwah zeba — Bear River
(now Petoskey).
Muskwah ne hissing — Bear
lake (Walloon).
We-que-naw-bing — Bay View.
Sheem-a-balm-a-kong — Seven
Mile Point.
Chippewa — Bah-go-ting —
Soo river rapids.
Ah-mik-ko-gane-dah — Beaver
Island.
Ching-walk-go-ze-bing — "Pine
River."
Pit-tik-way-wi-ji — "Roaring
Brook."
Zebewaing — Five Mile Creek.
Menonaqua — "Fine hair."
Tim misk o nush qua ze win —
"Idylwilde."
May Gwa ah qua dah da
bay — "Forest Beach."
Waugoshance — "Little fox."
Skillagalee is not an Indian
word but comes from the
French "Isle aux Galet" —
"Pebble island."
Good Hart — Postoffice and
store near Middle Village.
The store is the old govern-
ment school building, one-
fourth mile from The
Crooked Tree.
Bliss Farm — Me-sheem-in
Naga-wash-ta-kwa-ko-sid —
"Short Apple Tree."
Burt Lake — Sha-bo-e-gun-ing.
Crooked Lake — We-gwas-
sance-ka-ig — "Lots of little
white birches."
Lake Superior — Gitchi Gum-
ing — "Big lake."
Lake Erie — Named for the
tribe of Eries or Cat nation
on its south shore.
Lake Huron — From the Huron
or Wyandotte tribe.
Ne-saw-je-won — "Water run-
ning down" — A term ap-
plied to the chain of rivers
and lakes from Superior to
the Atlantic.
Green Bay — Bo-gee-we-quade.
Milwaukee — Min-newog —
"A nice place."
Wisconsin — Wish-konsing —
"Place of rushes or reeds."
Les Cheneaux Islands — Che-
neau in French means
"young oak" — the Indians
call them Nom-i-nung.
Northport — Michiganing —
"A clearing."
Ludington — Na-na-da-be-ga-
gan-ing — "Boney like."
Grand Haven — Wash-tenong.
Muskegon — "Fresh smelling."
St. Louis, Mo. — Me-she-ze-bing
— "City on the big river."
St. Joseph, Mich. — Potta-wotto-
me-nong.
Frankfort — Ka-she-za-ing —
"Flying fast."
Canada — Shaw-ga-nosh-king
— "British land."
Buffalo — Be-she-ka Wah-ka-
170
THE CROOKED TREE
kaning — "Wild Cow Coun-
try."
Niagara Falls — Ne-beesh A-
bung-ge-sing — "Falling
water."
Manistee — Sha-wa-noong,
(south) A-nom-i-nit-i-noong.
Manistique — Ke-way-di-
noong, (north) A-nom-i-nit-
i-noong.
Mackinaw City — Gata Oda-
noong.
Bois Blanc Island — Wego-
bemish — "White wood"
island.
Round Island — Me-ne-sa-sing.
Manitoulin Island — Manitou
waning — "Spirit land."
Quebec — Ka-bek.
Montreal — Money-ong.
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES
THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY
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MAR 18 1954
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